


here everyone knows (you're the way to my heart)

by catching_paper_moons



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Getting Back Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Temporary Character Death, he LIVES i PROMISE, these bitchass aliens get in the way of everything!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25517251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catching_paper_moons/pseuds/catching_paper_moons
Summary: Sometimes, Alex Manes wishes he had left Roswell at age 18 and never looked back. Because if something can go wrong in Roswell, it will. And this is, ultimately, a story about love gone wrong.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, brief Forrest Long/Alex Manes
Comments: 55
Kudos: 234





	here everyone knows (you're the way to my heart)

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this fairly quickly after having a literal dream about alex confessing his love at an extremely inopportune time. you guys, malex has ruined my brain. 
> 
> thanks to ang for saying this is her favorite fic when i had only written like one page, making me feel confident to continue on. best cheerleader ever.
> 
> this isn't really what i think is going to happen in season three, but mr. jones features a little bit in this, and i tried to make forrest not a villain. he is essential to alex's growth, okay? we love that. this takes place assuming that everything has been smoothed over from the season 2 weirdness, so like. handwavey.
> 
> title is from punisher by phoebe bridgers :)

Sometimes, Alex Manes wishes he had left Roswell at age 18 and never looked back. Because if something can go wrong in Roswell, it will. And this is, ultimately, a story about love gone wrong.

It’s chock full of skeletons in the closet (literally, if you count Tripp), places haunted by ghosts (figuratively, if you count Rosa), and reminders of what he can’t have (unfortunately, if you count Michael Guerin). And if he’d been stronger, maybe, if he’d tried harder, he could’ve stuck a middle finger up at his dad and driven away, to California or Arizona or Texas or the Pacific Northwest or maybe further. And he’d be free of this fucking town, ignorant to aliens and the abuses they’ve suffered, and maybe, just maybe, he’d be fucking happy.

(This is a stupid train of thought; he’s not naive enough to think he could ever forget Michael Guerin.)

If he’d been ignorant to all the alien bullshit, though, then he wouldn’t be in this situation, right now, in the front seat of his jeep, breaking away from kissing his boyfriend to answer a phone call that he only  _ knows _ is Michael Guerin because of the ringtone. It’s just a standard Apple ringtone, but it’s different from everyone else’s.

_ “You call and I’ll answer,” he’d said, back when Mr. Jones was actively making their life hell. “Just because we’re not... whatever we were doesn’t mean I won’t help.” _

And if Michael is calling now, well. It can’t be good.

“Guerin!” he barks into the phone, and he sees Forrest freeze out of the corner of his eye. He rubs the bridge of his nose, sighing. “What is it?”

“It’s Max,” Michael says, and he sounds wrecked and frantic. “I—he needs you, and Kyle.” Then, belatedly, and he sounds further away this time, “Is someone calling Liz?!” 

“I’ll call Liz,” Alex says, lowering his voice a bit, voice gentle. Michael’s breathing is still ragged, but Alex can hear it hitch at the tone change. “Is she back in town for good, now?”

“Yes.” He can hear Michael moving things around, and Michael starts muttering under his breath. “Always gotta be a goddamn hero, Max, you dick.” 

“I will be there so soon, okay?” Alex looks at Forrest apologetically, and Forrest rolls his eyes. Alex lowers his forehead onto the steering wheel and bangs it, once. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“No promises,” Michael shoots back, but he sounds distracted. Alex hears Isobel shouting in the background, and then a door closing. “Thank you, by the way.”

“You owe me,” Alex says. “I was with my boyfriend.” Forrest hides a smile behind his hand, and the knot in Alex’s stomach loosens.

Michael is silent for so long Alex has put the car in drive and started toward the Long Farm. “I do.” He clears his throat. “Owe you, that is. Be safe.” He hangs up, then, and Alex lets out the breath he’d been holding. He looks over.

“Don’t,” Forrest says, and he sounds bitter, despite his smile moments ago. Alex’s edges are already fraying. “You always pick up when he calls.”

“I always pick up when anyone calls,” Alex protests, but it sounds weak even to himself. “I  _ always  _ pick up when you call.”

“I know.” Forrest stares intently at the road ahead, and Alex looks away, biting his lip. “What’s so special about him? Them. I don’t know.”

“What?”

“The... Evans twins. Guerin. Liz Ortecho and her cousin who looks  _ just  _ like her fucking older sister did eleven years ago. Fuck, I don’t know.” Forrest runs his hands through his hair, and Alex pulls into the driveway. “You’d drop anything for them.”

“They’re my—” Alex cuts himself off, shaking his head. It’s vulnerable, what he wants to say, and he doesn’t know if Forrest is the person to say it to. But they’re dating, and have been for months, now, and Forrest has been so open with him that it feels unfair to keep this to himself. Of course, if he said that, Forrest would protest. 

_ “You don’t owe me that,” he’d said while they laid in bed, Forrest stroking his cheek lightly. “You don’t have to talk about it yet. Or ever. It’s yours, but I’ll help you carry it if you want me to.”  _

Alex shakes his head. Takes a leap. “They’re my family.” He looks into Forrest’s eyes, as if imploring,  _ begging  _ him to understand. “I can’t just... abandon my family right now.”

Forrest looks like he wants to ask, but he just shakes his head, instead. “Your father?” Forrest asks. It’s asked innocently, but Alex sighs. 

“My father may have been my father, but he was not my family.” An unwanted edge creeps into his voice, and Forrest nods. Alex deflates, then. “I’m sorry about tonight. I wanted—”

“I know.” Forrest shakes his head, and gives Alex a kiss. Alex reciprocates, enthusiastic as all hell, and Forrest pulls back, smiling. “Love you. We’ll talk more later, okay?”

He gets out of the car, then, not waiting for a response, and Alex’s stomach plummets. He takes some shallow breaths, and reverses out of the driveway. He’s  _ got  _ to call Liz.

—

By the time Max ends up back in his own bed, resting, Alex is wrung out. His leg aches, dull and persistent, and his head is throbbing. Isobel is fretting in the kitchen while Kyle and Liz fret in Max’s room. Michael is also fretting, but outside, where no one can see him. Alex limps to him, easing himself into the other chair.

“Hey,” he says, softly.

“Hey.” Michael looks over to him, small smile on his face. “Thank you.”

“Oh, I didn’t do much of anything,” Alex replies, waving it off more flippantly than he should. He  _ did  _ do something; he hacked into the security system at the hospital, untraceable though it was, to make sure they could steal some... medicine thing to save Max. Liz tried to explain it, but it went in one ear and out the other as he typed away. 

Michael shakes his head, though. “You did a lot. I know Max will be grateful.”

“I’m sure  _ Max  _ is very grateful,” Alex says, pressing his lips together to avoid smiling. He isn’t sure when Michael’s siblings became his way of asking for something or showing gratitude, but it’s hilarious to him.  _ Can you retrieve Isobel’s password for her laptop? She can’t remember it,  _ or  _ Max has to question an airman, can he come to the base?  _ are examples of texts that frequent his lock screen, and all of them come from Michael Guerin. If it’s an excuse to talk to him, it’s flimsy at best, but he’ll allow it because it adds a source of amusement to his day. 

Michael is silent again as he leans back, face tilted to the sky. “Hey.” He points to the sky, and Alex follows his finger. “Big Dipper’s out tonight.”

Alex smiles. “You’ve always loved constellations.”

Michael rolls his eyes, as if it’s obvious. “It’s space. It’s pretty fucking cool. And  _ I’m _ from out there.”

And that’s the rub, really. Alex can pretend all he wants, but part of him knows that all Michael’s ever wanted was to get the hell out of dodge, the same way Alex did, yet not at all. While Alex fantasized over Seattle or New York City, Michael fantasized over his home planet, the feeling that would come with belonging. Alex knew the feeling intimately, but he’d understood even back then that he only ever felt like he belonged when Michael was looking at him. When he turns to face Michael, Michael is watching him intently.

“What?” It comes out defensive, and Michael blinks at the sudden change. Alex sighs. “Sorry. It’s been—”

“A long day?” Michael nods. “Yeah.” They’re quiet again, but it’s not uncomfortable. Alex watches the stars, and he wonders which brightly lit dot in the sky is Michael’s home planet, if there’s anyone there, missing him as much as Michael seems to miss it there. He wonders if Michael ever wanted to stay here, despite knowing nothing else. He could ask, thinks about how he would phrase it, when Michael speaks again. “So how was your date?”

Alex blinks. “My what?”

“Your date?” Michael frowns. Alex frowns back. “You said you were with your boyfriend, when I called.”

Alex’s eyes widen, and he nods fervently, suddenly flushed with embarrassment that he’d forgotten Forrest’s existence for a moment. “Oh, yeah, uh.” He scratches his neck and swallows. Of all things he thought he’d talk about with Michael Guerin, his  _ boyfriend  _ did not come up on his list. “Nice? We went to the drive-in. They were, uh. Showing E.T.”

“And Max missed it?” Michael laughs, and it’s so free and genuine that Alex’s heart clenches. “Oh, he’s gonna have a field day.”

“They said there might be an encore showing,” Alex offers, and Michael nods. He tamps down on the feeling of wanting to sit in Michael’s truck bed and watch it. “If Max wanted to take Liz, or something.” A thought strikes him, suddenly. “Are they...?”

“Back together?” Alex nods. Michael shrugs. “Beats me. Liz was  _ so  _ angry when she left, and so was Max, but... I don’t know. They’re adults.” Michael runs his fingers through his hair, his hands getting stuck in a ringlet. “They talk shit out.”

Alex can hear the unspoken  _ unlike us,  _ and he sighs, moving to stand. “I should—”

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

They take a detour so Alex can say goodbye to Liz. She hugs him, grateful, and Isobel kisses his cheek, and Kyle waves him off with a promise to call in the morning, so Alex feels safe in leaving. The walk to the car is quiet, but before Alex moves to get in, he grabs Michael’s wrist. “Are you gonna be okay?” he asks, and Michael looks upwards again, like Alex asking him this is a hardship. It brings up a flare of annoyance in his chest, but Michael looks back to him, and that ache is soothed.

“Of course I will.”

“Don’t drink yourself half to death?”  _ If you need me, I’m here  _ is what Alex means. The corner of Michael’s mouth quirks up, and Alex knows he understands.

“Obviously, Captain.” Michael mock salutes him, sauntering away from the jeep with a cocky swagger, and Alex huffs out a laugh. When the car rumbles to life, the clock reads  _ 02:32,  _ and Alex groans. He’s supposed to be up in 3 hours.

—

The next day is grueling; though he’s used to running on fumes, it doesn’t make it easy when he has to run around a base giving orders and taking names and doing his job. At least he’s not in active combat. He’d texted Forrest this morning, just an easy  _ hi, sorry again about last night. make up date this weekend?  _ with a kissy face emoji, which felt uncomfortable, but it’s what boyfriends do, he supposes, so he does it. Forrest texts back with a heart emoji, so he couldn’t have gotten it too wrong. 

A lieutenant stops him in the hallway, asking him for help, and he goes easily, navigating effortlessly through a rudimentary security system. He narrates it the whole way, and she’s grateful, and when he stands back up and makes it to his office, he notices that it’s almost time for him to leave.  _ Thank god,  _ he thinks. Today has gone far quicker than he’d hoped. 

A quick glance at his phone lets him know that Forrest has texted again.  _ I’m actually at your place with dinner,  _ it reads, and Alex blinks at his phone. He’d really been looking forward to lots of sleep; maybe just crashing without even eating. ( _ You need to eat more regularly,  _ a voice that sounds suspiciously like a mix of Maria, Liz, and Michael says, and he shuts it up with a shake of his head.) He supposes, though, that a dinner date shouldn’t be too bad, because he doesn’t  _ not  _ want to see Forrest. He always wants to see him, just—not right  _ now. _

But he’s not going to say no to free dinner, so he bucks up, drives home, and kisses Forrest straight on the lips as thanks.

“Wow,” Forrest murmurs. “You’re in a good mood.”

“Missed you today,” Alex says, and he finds that he’s telling the truth. He  _ did  _ miss Forrest, and even if he wasn’t quite looking forward to his ruined evening plans, this is nice. They sit at the island in his spacious kitchen, laughing over burritos and guacamole, and Alex feels happy. It’s nice. 

“How  _ was  _ your day?” Forrest asks, eventually. The burritos are long gone, and Alex’s phone is buzzing incessantly. The “two alien emojis” group chat is going off, and he knows he  _ should  _ check it, but... he’s with his boyfriend right now. Sue him. 

“Nothing special.” He rolls his neck, and his phone buzzes again. He rolls his eyes, pocketing it so it stops making noise. Forrest smiles at the action, and Alex smiles back. “I didn’t sleep super well.”

“Oh?” Forrest nods. “Because of the phone call. From Guerin.” There’s still an edge to his tone, so Alex rushes to get rid of it.

“Yeah,” Alex says. He swallows. “Max was in the ER. Food poisoning.” It’s smooth, no curious upticks in his voice, no twitching eyes, no heartbeat skip. Forrest frowns. “He’s okay, he’s home now. M— Isobel and Guerin were just scared, wanted friends there for moral support.”

“Oh, shit.” Forrest looks actually pained, and Alex really,  _ really  _ hates lying to him. But. Necessary evils, he supposes. “Nothing rest can’t fix, right? Food poisoning sucks.”

“Tell me about it.” Alex laughs a little. “He like, never gets sick. So they were worried.”

“Definitely.” Forrest smiles. “Is...uh. You’re probably tired, then.”

Alex laughs again. “A little,” he admits. “But I’m glad you’re here.” His phone buzzes again; he ignores it,  _ again.  _ He realizes, belatedly, what that sounds like; maybe an invitation to sleep over, or an invitation for sex, or... anything other than sleep, which is all Alex wants right now. He  _ is  _ glad Forrest is here, but he wants... well. What does he want?

“To sleep?” Forrest asks, and Alex’s brows furrow. Had he said that out loud? He shakes his head.

“Are you staying?” he asks back. Forrest inhales, sharp.

“Do you want me to?”

Alex bites his lip. Alex gets nightmares. Alex has to take off a prosthetic leg to sleep. Alex tosses and turns, can’t get comfortable. The last person Alex shared a bed with knew and understood all of this. Alex doesn’t  _ want _ to have to explain. (“That’s part of being in a new relationship,” he hears in his head. It sounds like Maria. “You have to get vulnerable.”)

Forrest starts to answer for him. “If you don’t—”

“I’m not easy to sleep with,” he blurts out, before Forrest can get too far. “I have nightmares and I have to literally take off my leg and—”

“That doesn’t bother me,” Forrest says, and Alex can tell he means it. Alex smiles, partly in disbelief, and he stands, taking Forrest’s hand.

“Then follow me.”

He leads him to the bedroom, and Forrest sits on the bed. It’s not the first time Forrest has been over, but it  _ is  _ the first time he’s stayed, and that makes this all different, to him. It feels bigger, more important. Forrest starts to strip, and Alex heads into the bathroom to brush his teeth and change, stealthily. When he pulls out his phone, his group chat has contributed to far too many missed messages. He rolls his eyes, and opens the chat. 

_ two aliens emojis _

**to: group** **  
** _ Guys what the fuck I have 103 unread texts _

**from: Rosa Ortecho** **  
** _ sorry sweetie :) _ _  
_ _ unrelated, anyone else think this groupchat should reflect all the aliens _ _  
_ **from: Michael Guerin** **  
** _ Four and one eighth alien emojis seems like a mouthful, Ortecho _ _  
_ **from: Rosa Ortecho** **  
** _ but worth it no? _

He laughs, and starts to back read as quickly as he can before Forrest starts to get suspicious (although, really, if he admits it to himself, Forrest won’t). There’s something about Mr. Jones getting away, which worries him, and messages to keep a lookout, and also to call Max first if they see anything. Alex frowns; there’s an individual message from Michael.  _ Max says to lock your door with the bolt tonight just in case.  _ Alex smiles, rolling his eyes.

**to: Michael Guerin, 8:48 pm** **  
** _ Thank Max for me, then _

**from: Michael Guerin**   
_ I will _

He changes quickly, then, or as quickly as he can, and pops out of the bathroom. “I’m just going to make sure the door is locked,” he says, and Forrest nods. He does, double bolting it, and looks around. The windows are locked, the cameras working, and he sighs. He’s safe as he can be, so he makes his way back to the bed, where Forrest is already under the duvet. His smile is soft and warm, and Alex finds himself smiling back as he removes his prosthetic and wriggles around, getting comfortable. Forrest rolls over to face him, and leans in. Alex pulls away instinctively, and Forrest’s face falls. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Alex shuts his eyes, feeling like an idiot. “I didn’t mean—”

“No, that was on me.” Alex opens his eyes and looks over. “Kiss me now.”

Forrest laughs and kisses him once, twice, and then pulls away. “Sleep well.” Alex falls asleep smiling, feeling safe.

He wakes up at 3 am, sweaty and yelling, throat raw. Forrest shoots up, throwing a hand out, but Alex pushes it away, slapping a hand over his mouth. “‘M fine,” he mumbles, reaching blindly for his prosthetic. “Sorry for waking you.”

“Alex, where are you going?” Forrest asks. He sounds frustrated, and Alex hates this. He  _ knew  _ he wouldn’t sleep well, and he said yes anyway, just hoping he would. He shakes his head.

“To make tea.”

He fumbles around as Forrest sits there, helplessly, telling him he’s fine and safe and Alex knows all of those things but his brain won’t fucking shut up, and he doesn’t know how to  _ say  _ this without sounding like an asshole. He’s not in a flashback, it was just a nightmare, and he  _ knows  _ he’s fine. “Do you want to be alone?” Forrest says it like he already knows the answer. Alex supposes he does, but he nods anyway, pulling a sweatshirt on and limping toward the kitchen.

Is he supposed to feel like shit, leaving Forrest in his bed while he makes tea? He could make him some, and he supposes he will, but he pulls his phone out from his pocket, opens his messages, and presses call.

It rings twice before there’s an answer. “Alex?” Michael sounds like he was asleep, and suddenly Alex feels guilty. “Alex, what happened?”

“Nothing,” he says quietly. He can hear it in his voice; he sounds wrecked, and he knows Michael can hear it too. When he swallows, his throat hurts. “Nothing, just a nightmare.”

Michael sighs. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Alex scoffs as he puts the kettle on the stove. He turns it up to high, letting the water start to boil. “Not really.” He sits on the stool behind the island, leaning his head back against the counter. “Forrest is here. I think I annoyed him with my screaming.”

“Hm.” Michael sounds like he’s moving around, and then there’s the sound of a door opening. “I doubt he was annoyed.”

“You didn’t hear him,” Alex says, but the excuse sounds flimsy. “He sounded annoyed.”

“Okay, even if he was.” There’s a rustling sound on the other end, and Alex can picture Michael so clearly that it makes him smile. “I bet if you talked to him about it, he’d understand.”

“Sorry are you... giving me relationship advice?  _ You?  _ Michael Guerin?” He laughs as he hears the water start to heat up. The crackling noise is soothing, and Michael’s laugh over the phone is, too. 

“Look, I know some things.” What sounds like a gust of wind blowing directly into the phone startles Alex, and Michael is suddenly cursing. “Ah, shit,  _ shit _ , it’s fucking cold!”

“Go back inside, dumbass.” His voice is bleeding fondness, and he tries to dial it back. The kettle whistling makes him jump. “Fuck.”

“Are you making tea?” Michael sounds incredulous, he hears a door open and close, and feels better knowing Michael is inside. “What kind of tea?”

“Green, with honey and lemon.” He puts his teabag in his mug and pours the water, letting it steep. “It’s soothing.” He doesn’t know why he’s justifying it; if Michael’s going to judge him, then that’s his problem. Somehow, he doesn’t think Michael will.

“Interesting.” Michael pauses. Then, “I usually drink earl grey.”

Alex recognizes this for what it is; Michael is trying to be his friend, and Alex’s heart stutters. He shakes his head, remembering that Forrest, his  _ boyfriend,  _ is (hopefully) asleep in his bed, and he should go back. But. 

Michael Guerin drinks earl grey. 

“I’ll remember that,” Alex says softly. “Goodnight, Guerin.”

“Goodnight, Manes.”

He walks back to his bed, mug in hand, to find Forrest scrolling through his phone. Alex sets his mug down on the side table, and crawls in bed, kissing him. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

Forrest smiles into his mouth, and Alex feels guilt all through his body, but he tamps it down.  _ He didn’t do anything,  _ he reminds himself.  _ Michael is his friend.  _ “Do you feel better? I told you. Nightmares don’t bother me.”

Alex nods, not trusting his voice, and Forrest lets it go silent as they watch the night change through the window. Maybe he should talk to Mimi.

—

So, Alex doesn’t talk to Mimi, but he does talk to Maria on Friday, and that’s close enough.

“Can you come tonight? To the Pony?” Maria is chewing gum while she talks. Alex can hear it, and suddenly he misses her. He’s been spending so much time with Forrest that he’s neglected his friends. He should remedy that.

“What are we doing at the Pony? And when? It’s already tonight.” He pulls on a pair of jeans nonetheless, knowing he was fighting a losing battle when it comes to Maria. Even if it was just her, he’d be showing up as soon as he could.

“Did you  _ not  _ read the group chat? We’re holding a meeting while I close.” He can hear clanking glasses and running water, and pictures her flitting around the bar, getting everything ready. “But really it’s just an excuse to get together. You could—”

“I shouldn’t,” he interrupts, and Maria clicks her tongue. “Maria.”

“I mean why  _ shouldn’t  _ you bring Forrest? And then drop him back off and come back for our meeting!” She sighs like it should be obvious. “No one’s saying he has to  _ know  _ about the alien stuff.”

“If I showed up with Forrest I think someone would blow a gasket.” He doesn’t specify who, because, quite honestly, he doesn’t really  _ know  _ who would, but he doesn’t want to merge these two worlds just yet. His first thought is to say Michael, but just a few days ago Michael was giving him relationship advice, and asking after Forrest and how he was doing, so maybe his first thought is wrong. No one else really strikes him as the type.

“Who, Guerin? I’d kick him out if he did,” Maria says, and Alex believes her, laughing. “Bring him. At least for a little bit?”

“Maybe,” is what Alex settles on, and Maria seems to take that, because then she’s off and rambling about something else. Alex lets the sound of her voice wash over him while he unwinds from his day, and after she hangs up, because he’s hopeless to Maria’s persistence, he texts Forrest.

**to: Forrest Long, 7:01 pm** **  
** _ So my friends decided while I was at work that we’re meeting at the Pony tonight at 8. You wanna come with? _

He rereads the texts and marvels at how normal it sounds. In any other universe, he’s just a guy with a boyfriend texting said boyfriend to come meet his friends from high school. In this universe, that’s the grossest simplification of his relationship to any of these people possible. But he bets, to Forrest, that it’ll read just like that, and maybe that amuses him more than it should. He tries to do something with his hair, tries to pick a decent enough outfit, and then his phone dings.

**from: Forrest Long, 7:15 pm** **  
** _ Lol, your friends seem bad at planning. But yeah, sure! I’m doing something early tomorrow, though, so I’d have to leave early-ish. _

**to: Forrest Long** **  
** _ Oh that’s fine! Glad you can come for a bit :) _

His relief at Forrest not being able to stay strikes him again. He’s been feeling a lot of relief at Forrest not being able to show up to things, lately. It makes him feel less guilty about lying. He shakes his head, and goes to scarf down a quick dinner before leaving, trying to convince himself that tonight will  _ not _ be weird.

Tonight is fucking weird.

Forrest is a social butterfly, and he charms Kyle, Liz and Max easily. Rosa, who Forrest knows as Rosalinda, is more suspicious, as is Isobel, and they’ve sectioned themselves off, away from the group. Michael, on the other hand, is listening intently to everything Forrest has to say, and is laughing at all the right places, and being, well, nice. Well, nice for him. But Forrest seems to get that, and is enjoying Michael’s presence, and this? Is fucking weird.

Alex walks to the bar, claiming to be grabbing another beer, and flags Maria down. “Okay, what the fuck?” she says. “I know we said we weren’t going to talk about it, like, ever—”

“He’s being nice!” Alex hisses. “I don’t know what to do with this!”

“It  _ is  _ weird,” she muses. She gets him another beer without asking, sliding it to him. “I don’t know, Alex, maybe he’s grown up?”

Alex bangs his head on the bar, and it stings a little more than he’d expected it to. “He’s a good person, Maria, but this is weird even for him.”

Maria smiles, and there’s a melancholy twinge to it, and suddenly Alex feels so guilty he can hardly stand it. “I think he’s trying, Alex. He’s trying to be a good friend to you.”

“Fuck,” he says, and Maria nods. “You’re a good person, Maria. I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head, waving him off. “Don’t. You’re still my best friend, and we talk about our boy problems. Bros before hoes right?” Alex laughs loudly, and she pushes him back to the group, where Isobel and Rosa have trapped Max and Kyle in a conversation about god knows what, and Liz and Michael are asking Forrest about the town's history.

“So yeah!” he says emphatically. “Nazi spies. Kind of weird but cool, right?” He stops himself, furrowing his brows. “Although I don’t know that they were Nazi spies. Maybe they were Allied spies? Whatever. They were  _ definitely  _ spies. And that’s what Guerin was researching when I met him, but he thinks it has to do with aliens.” Forrest smiles at Michael like he’s in on the joke, and Michael nods, confirming he is, and Alex plops down at the seat across from him, smiling. 

“You don’t think aliens exist?” Liz asks, and Alex and Michael lock eyes, and then snap their heads to look at her. She sounds friendly, innocent, even, but Alex knows her, and there’s no way the question is actually innocent. He just doesn’t know what her play is.

Forrest scrunches his nose, and it’s adorable. Alex wants to kiss him. “I don’t think so. I mean, I’m sure they’re out there,” he amends. “I’m not naive enough to think we’re the only living things in the universe.”

“Hah,” Michael laughs, softly, but it’s got a hint of anxiety in it. Alex frowns.

“But no, I don’t think they’re here in Roswell.” He frowns. “It was really just a weather balloon crash, you know? The air force base accidentally crashed it.” He smiles over at Alex, and Alex smiles back. 

“You know the air force,” he says, dry, and Michael snorts.

“I’ve always thought it would be cool, if there were aliens here,” Liz remarks. She sounds thoughtful, and her smile is soft, and Michael looks at her with a soft smile. “But you’re probably right. Too convenient.”

“Spies make much more sense,” Michael agrees. Liz and Alex narrow their eyes at the same time, because Michael not taking a chance to start an argument is generally unheard of. “But I’m all in on aliens,” he says, finally, and Alex barks out a laugh at that, and Michael looks so pleased that Alex feels the back of his neck flush.

“Well, may the best man win, then,” Forrest says, all smiles as he sticks out his hand. Michael takes it, shaking his hand, and Forrest stands up, then. “I should go—”

“No!” Michael and Liz exclaim, and then laugh at how in sync they are. Alex clears his throat. This is wholly uncomfortable.

Forrest laughs, too. “I have an early shift at the library tomorrow, since we open at 7.” He shudders, but shrugs nonetheless. “It was really nice to meet you officially, Liz. And sorry my cousin tried to shoot you.”

Liz laughs, amused and charmed, though he swears in any other circumstance she’d be pissed. Maybe his boyfriend is a miracle worker. “It was nice to meet you, too.” She smiles, and though it passes as innocent and sweet, Alex senses the sharpness. “I get it. You’re not your cousin.” Michael sits up, then, from where he’d slouched, and Alex knows he heard it, too; the thinly veiled threat of  _ and if you become like him, I won’t be this friendly  _ is obvious if you know Liz Ortecho. But to Forrest, it’s a kind thing to say, and his smile only brightens. 

“Guerin. It was good to see you again,” he says, polite. Michael smiles, also polite. Alex didn’t even know he could do that. “Alex...?” The question hangs in the air, and Alex stands.

“Yeah, I’ll walk you to your car.” Liz giggles at that, and Alex shoots her a look. Michael is watching, and he looks a little uncomfortable, but when he looks up, his expression has cleared. He smiles at them both, and then turns to Liz, giving Alex and Forrest privacy. It rubs Alex the wrong way, for some reason, but he walks out with Forrest anyway, putting Michael out of his mind. 

“That was nice,” Forrest says as they walk to his car. His smile is small, and Alex frowns. “You seemed a bit distant all night.”

“I didn’t mean to be,” Alex says truthfully, and Forrest nods, leaning against the driver side door. “I was nervous, you know?” Forrest furrows his brows at that, and Alex shakes his head. “Not because of you.”

“Because of them?” Forrest sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “You keep saying they were your friends in high school. Liz, I believe. Maria, too. I remember that.” Forrest shakes his head, and guilt hits Alex like a freight train. “But Guerin? The Evans twins? They were so... distant, in high school. Exclusive. I can count on one hand the amount of times I saw you with  _ Isobel Evans.”  _ Forrest scoffs, and suddenly, Alex feels defensive.

“Isobel is a good person, and you’re two years older than me,” Alex says, cutting off this line of communication. Forrest deflates a little, but it’s clear that his shackles are still up. “Maybe we didn’t talk much in high school. But Max and I were friendly, and Guerin and I were—” he cuts himself off, huffing. “Friends. We were friends.”

“I think you were more than that,” Forrest mutters, voice low, and Alex feels like he was slapped. “It’s nice, though, that the guy everyone knows town drunk found a place in his heart to be polite to his ex’s new boyfriend.”

“He wasn’t even drinking tonight. That was mean, and you know it.” Alex snaps, and Forrest straightens up, looking Alex straight in the eye. Alex refuses to back down, though. He knows... he  _ knows  _ this is partially his fault, but Forrest talking about Michael like that has him angry. “He’s a good person. He’s  _ changed,  _ and I don’t appreciate you talking about all of them like this.”

“I think I’ve earned the right, considering the way you kept watching him,” Forrest mutters, and Alex takes a deep breath.

“That’s not fair. Me being distant tonight had  _ nothing  _ to do with him.”

“No?” Forrest asks, incredulous, and Alex shakes his head, looking away. “Let’s see. That girl in there? Is definitely Rosa Ortecho. Or did you forget I was in school with her?” He sounds dangerous, now, and it occurs to Alex, then, that not only Wyatt lost Kate in that accident. “I spent  _ years  _ of my life thinking poor Rosa Ortecho’s addiction issues led to not only her death but my cousin’s, and now she’s sitting in the Wild Pony with Isobel Evans, who I  _ know  _ she didn’t hang out with in high school,  _ very  _ much alive, after she was dead, after her funeral? And you want me to believe she’s Rosalinda from Arizona, and she’s Liz’s cousin.” Forrest shakes his head. “You are  _ lying  _ to me, Alex. And I thought you had a good reason, maybe you didn’t know how to tell me that Rosa lived through that but it’s been months, and I  _ love  _ you and you are hiding  _ so much  _ from me!” 

If Alex wasn’t frozen before, he is now, because Forrest is so close to blowing this whole thing wide open, and he literally has no clue what to say. At all. “I—  _ Forrest,”  _ he says, voice cracking. “We need to talk. The Rosalinda thing, it’s—”

“Complicated?” Forrest laughs, bitter and full of frustration. “Save it.”

“It’s _all_ fucking complicated!” Alex yells. “All of it! And it’s not my _place_ to talk about it because none of it happened to me!”

“Michael Guerin happened to you,” Forrest says, voice cold. Alex freezes. Forrest shakes his head. “You and Guerin. And you always answer when he calls.”

“That,” Alex starts, “does not mean what you think it means.”

“Doesn’t it though? You called him the other night,” Forrest says, and Alex can’t stop him. “After your nightmare. You said you wanted to be  _ alone _ and you left me in your bed and called your  _ ex?  _ And it  _ doesn’t mean what I think it means?”  _ He’s yelling, now, and Alex shuts his eyes. “Don’t look away from me!”

“I’m not  _ cheating  _ on you!” Alex opens his eyes, pointing back at the bar. “Everyone in there is  _ important  _ to me. They are my  _ family,  _ because I don’t have a good family.”

“Neither do  _ I!”  _ Forrest turns away, laughing. It’s not a happy one, though, and Alex’s stomach turns. “You don’t have a monopoly on pain, Alex.”

“I never fucking said that I did!” Alex takes a step back, reeling, and takes a deep breath. “Look, I don’t expect you to understand—”

“Because you haven’t explained a single thing!”

“Yes. Okay. You’re right.” Alex exhales, shaking his head. “Michael Guerin and I dated for four months during and after high school, before I left for the Air Force Academy.” Alex tugs at his hair, feeling out of control. Bile rises in his throat, and he swallows it. “And yes, we’ve hooked up since then. We have history. And that history will always be there. But I am with  _ you,  _ and Michael is my friend, but he is  _ not  _ my boyfriend, okay?” Alex swallows again, pushing down on an all too familiar panicked feeling. “Just... understand that, okay?”

“Okay.” Forrest says, and it’s quiet. “Okay. You’re not off the hook.”

Alex sighs. “I didn’t expect to be.”

“I’m going to go. I love you, okay? But I’m going to go.” He gets into his car and drives away, and Alex realizes that he hasn’t said I love you back. 

He walks back toward the bar, but before he can go in, he sinks to the ground, head in his hands, and tries to force air into his lungs. He’s fucking stupid, is the thing, to think he could effectively lie like this. What is he even supposed to say? Forrest knows too much, and if he gets even one more piece of the puzzle he’ll have it all figured out. And it’s not his place to tell Forrest that; it’s  _ not.  _

“Are you okay?” he hears, and it’s Isobel, coming to sit next to him. “Either you guys were making out against his car or you got into a fight, and I have a feeling you weren’t making out.”

Alex laughs. “It’s nothing,” he says, and Isobel gives him a look. “He knows I’m lying to him.”

“About...?” Alex is silent, and Isobel nods. “Everything,” she guesses, and he nods.

“He figured out that ‘Rosalinda’ is just Rosa, and he knows about me and Michael, and everything has felt fucked up for a while but—” He cuts himself off, taking more shallow breaths. Isobel scoots closer to him, putting an arm around him, resting her chin on his shoulder. “I just wanted to be happy and normal.”

When he looks over to her, she looks  _ heartbroken.  _ “Alex, you are normal.” She smooths his hair back, and turns his face to look at her. He’s hit with a sudden rush of affection for her; she’s not his closest friend, not by any means, but now that he’s in her group, he knows she’d do anything for him. And right now, he’s grateful. “Maybe—” She shakes her head. “I wish I could help.”

His mouth twists into a frown, and she looks at him, considering. “Don’t use your mind powers on me,” he says, resigned to his fate, now. She smiles. “Maybe we aren’t compatible.”

“Maybe,” she says simply. “I’m sorry you got in a fight.”

He sighs. “It’s okay. I should... head back in, anyway. We’ve got some things to discuss.”

The meeting is a blur; as they all help Maria wipe down tables and put dishes in the dishwasher, Max shares what really happened that night, and how Mr. Jones  _ poisoned  _ him, and they need to be more careful.

“Maybe,” Isobel starts, “we shouldn’t go after the evil alien we had contained by ourselves. Just a thought.”

“Yeah, great point,” Kyle tags on. “Maybe we should call for backup.”

“Or maybe we shouldn’t go at all? Until we’ve figured it out?” Liz adds, and Max throws his hands up in defeat.

“Okay, I made a mistake,” he says. Liz shoots him a look. “A  _ big  _ mistake. But for all we know, he’s long gone by now. We didn’t even really get answers out of him.”

“Look, maybe he ran away to Vancouver, or something,” Maria suggests, and everyone looks at her, confusion on their faces. “I don’t know! Maybe he got tired of being an evil alien.”

“Or  _ maybe _ he’ll continue being an evil alien  _ in Vancouver,”  _ Michael drawls. Kyle snorts. “Come on, guys. Ragging on Max when you know I’ll just do it later isn’t productive. What  _ is  _ productive is talking about what threat he actually poses to us.”

“A deadly one, obviously.” All heads turn to Alex, and he realizes he’s spoken. He looks up from the booth he’d been methodically wiping down, and swallows. “Look, from everything we know about the crash, he wasn’t worried about humans. He wasn’t trying to kill humans in the following year, either; he was only ever trying to get to Nora or Louise.” 

“So maybe he’s not dangerous to us, but...” Liz trails off, looking at Max.

“But he’s dangerous to aliens,” Isobel finishes.

“Aliens he knows, though?” Rosa says, and Max frowns.

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, think about it like this.” She hops down from her current perch on the bar counter, and paces. “If you three, pod squad kids, were alive on your home planet in 1947, first of all, you’re really fucking old.” She stops herself, looking over at Isobel. “Oh my god. You’re like, eighty.”

“I’m not even  _ thirty  _ yet,” Isobel screeches, and Maria hides a snicker behind her hand.

“Okay, okay, continue, Rosa,” Liz interrupts, shooting Isobel a look. “We know you’re not  _ actually  _ eighty.”

Rosa huffs. “Whatever. My point is, you  _ knew  _ Mr. Jones. On your home planet. Maybe not personally, maybe not like... closely or anything. But you knew him and he knew  _ you.  _ Nora and Louise were trying to protect you from him. So even though I have alien DNA, and Maria has alien DNA, he’s not going to come after us, because we’re not actually eighty years old.”

“I’m not  _ eighty!”  _

“ _ Okay,  _ Iz, we know.” Michael steps out from behind the table, brows furrowed. “But Rosa’s got a point. Mr. Jones has never come after humans. He was a farmer. He interacted with humans. We don’t know his end goal, but if it was to end the  _ human  _ race? He’s been failing at that for years.”

“Nora was hiding from him. She didn’t want to be near him,” Isobel says, nodding. “That picture? With his hand on her shoulder? She was afraid of him. But no one else would’ve noticed, because he didn’t care about hurting the humans. He wanted Nora and Louise.”

“But for  _ what?”  _ Max stands up, looking frustrated and... scared, Alex notes. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Max scared. “We still don’t even know what he wanted, why he crashed the ship, what his endgame is!” He shakes his head, shoulders slumping. “We don’t know anything.”

“No, Max,” Michael starts, and he sounds gentle. Alex’s heart skips a beat, stupidly. “We know that everyone except us three are safe. That’s a really good place to start, right?”

“Michael’s right,” Liz says, putting her hand on his cheek. “We’re all going to be okay. We’re going to work together to figure out how to keep you all safe, now.”

“That’s what we do, right?” Alex finds himself saying. “We keep your secret, we keep you safe. Maybe there are old Project Shepherd documents that mention him. Kyle and I can look, you know? Keep you guys updated.” Kyle rolls his eyes at Alex volunteering him, but he smiles, nodding his assent. “Max, it’ll be okay.”

Isobel sits, hard, and looks off into the distance. “What, Iz?” Max mumbles, and Isobel shrugs.

“We need a plan. To lure him out.” She shakes her head, sighing. “I don’t know. I have a feeling he’s still here, not in wherever like we hoped.”

“So use one of us as bait?” Michael says, but Alex cuts him off before he can continue.

“Absolutely not,” he snaps, surprising even himself with the vehemence in his voice. Michael blinks in surprise, and Alex shakes his head. “We’re not sacrificing any of you when we don’t know what we’re dealing with.” Liz nods, and he takes a breath. 

The plan talks continue, but Alex sits back in a chair, letting it wash over him. Isobel’s plan to lure Mr. Jones into fighting with the aliens is still the most popular, and if he thinks with his military brain, he knows she’s right. They wouldn’t throw all three of them to the wolves, by any means, but it makes sense. Put one of them on a silver platter, but get him with the element of surprise. And hopefully have Kyle on standby to be a medic if something goes wrong. It’s got holes, but nothing time and planning wouldn’t fix. But Liz won’t let Max sacrifice himself, and Max won’t let Isobel sacrifice herself. So.

“I mean. I’ll do it. Put myself out there,” Michael says, and Alex feels like throwing up. “I don’t mind.”

“I do!” Isobel snaps. “Max, just let me, okay? I’m strong, I can take it.”

“I don’t want  _ either  _ of you getting hurt, okay? Liz, please,” he begs, and Liz shakes her head. 

“You just got over being poisoned,” she says. “I’m not putting you in danger.”

“What if we wait?”

“No, Max,” Michael says, shaking his head. Alex reaches for his phone, hand shaking. “We don’t have the time. Isobel, I’m not going to let you get hurt either, okay? Just let me.”

“Michael...” Maria starts, but Michael shakes his head again.

“No, it’s not up for debate, okay?” Michael sighs. “I’ll be okay. I mean, what have I got to lose?”

“Oh, fuck  _ off!”  _ Isobel stands, abrupt, and the lights start to flicker.  _ “I  _ am not losing  _ you  _ to a murderous alien, Michael!”

“I have the least attachments here, okay?!” Michael yells. Alex feels like his heart is cracking in two, and also feels abruptly angry at Michael’s outburst. “I’m the one with the  _ least  _ to lose! I don’t have parents, I don’t have a partner—”

“That is  _ not  _ the point of this,” Liz snarls, slapping her hand on the table in front of him. Her voice and the ire in it stops him dead in his tracks. “You have us, and  _ we _ will lose  _ you  _ if this goes wrong, which is why we will make  _ damn  _ sure it won’t, okay?”

Alex swallows, then, finding his voice. “We won’t let anything happen to you. But don’t, even for a  _ minute, _ think you have nothing to lose.”

Michael deflates, then, sitting down. It’s quiet for a moment, everyone taking in the gravity of the situation. Alex looks over at Michael, and he nods, and Alex is glad they could come to an understanding. Maria claps her hands together. “Well, that was productive. Get out of my bar.” It breaks a little bit of the tension in the room, making everyone laugh. Everyone’s shoulders slump simultaneously, like the late hour has  _ just  _ caught up to them.

“I’m gonna go,” Kyle says first, and that breaks it completely, everyone saying their goodbyes. Kyle grabs Alex, then, and looks at him. “I’m off tomorrow.”

“Okay?” Alex fumbles around for his keys, pulling them out of his pocket. “Did you—”

“We could look over some stuff tomorrow, if you want.” It’s a casual statement, but Alex hears it for what it is.  _ We need to talk.  _ “I’m not busy.”

“I’m not either,” Alex says. “You wanna drive?”

“I’ll pick you up at 9.” Kyle claps his shoulder, starting to walk away, and Alex sputters.

“In the  _ morning?!  _ Kyle!” he calls out, but Kyle just laughs his way out the door, and Alex groans. That’s at least one less hour of sleep he’s getting.

—

As expected, Kyle shows up promptly at nine in the morning, though the coffee and breakfast sandwich he hands over are a pleasant surprise. Alex takes them both, grateful, and leans his head back. 

“It’s so early, Valenti,” he whines, and Kyle laughs, pulling away from the curb. “How could you do this to me?”

“Look, you can nap later, okay? I wanted to... I don’t know. Get a head start?” He turns up the music a little, and it’s some pop radio station that Alex has never listened to in his life. He recognizes a song  _ vaguely,  _ but he takes a sip of his coffee, instead. 

The drive to the bunker feels long, but it’s enjoyable. Alex eats his breakfast sandwich, asks Kyle about work, talks about his  _ own  _ work, and it’s not awkward. Alex is grateful beyond measure that Kyle grew up to be such a good person, because it’s nice to have someone who’s known him as long as Kyle’s known him be so close. They weren’t friends in high school, and though they  _ were  _ friends on Facebook in college, Kyle’s life at Michigan could not have been more different from his experience. Kyle’s grown up a lot, though, and so has Alex, and he’s glad that if anyone from childhood is on this wild alien rollercoaster with him, it’s Kyle Valenti.

They pull up, finally, and they look at each other, and take a deep breath. It’s going to be a long, long day.

By the time Alex checks his watch, he’s been sitting in this damn computer chair for 2 hours, and he’s exhausted. He’s combed through every leaflet, every document on this desk, and he’s seen  _ nothing  _ about anyone named Mr. Jones. He knows he’ll be able to find at least something on the computer, but Kyle’s been searching through the situation table, and he didn’t want to make this trip out here for nothing.

“I’m going to try the computer, Kyle,” he says, swiveling around and logging in. He hears Kyle come up behind him, and he sets a stool down, sitting next to him. Alex narrows his eyes. “Hello?”

“I just wanted to see,” Kyle says, sheepish, and Alex narrows his eyes, smiling a little, but he lets it go, logging into the secure browser. After a few minutes of Alex typing away and getting rid of some of the open tabs, Kyle speaks again. “So. Forrest seems nice.”

“He is,” Alex says absentmindedly, picking up his phone. There’s no text from Forrest at all, even after Alex triple-texted last night. He sighs. “Where are you, Mr. Jones?” he mutters to himself, but he can feel Kyle’s eyes tracking him. He sighs. “What?”

“Did you fight last night?” Kyle asks, and Alex blinks.

“What? Fight?” Alex shakes his head, but Kyle interrupts him.

“You weren’t really close to Forrest all night. You kept... you kept watching Michael talk to him.” Kyle looks up at the screen. “I don’t know what’s going on, but after he—Forrest— left, you seemed upset.”

Alex stares at a news article from September 1947, and clicks. He takes one deep breath, then another.  _ Fuck it. _ “I think I’m fucking this relationship up,” he blurts out, and Kyle’s eyes widen. “I told someone I thought we might not be compatible and now the more I think about it... the more I think it might be true.”

“Did something happen?”

Alex laughs humorlessly at that, and he launches into a long-winded tirade about the lies and Rosa and everything in between. “He’s smart, Kyle,” Alex says, “and he figured out Rosa was alive, that she’s not Rosalinda from Arizona or whatever, and he knows about—” Alex cuts himself off.

Kyle nods, lips pressed together in a thin line, trying to hide his amusement. Alex can read him like a book, though, and annoyance sparks in his chest. “Anyone with eyes knows about you and Guerin. Hate to break that to you, bud.” 

“I told him it was old news, but that was all he could think about.” Alex runs his fingers through his hair, huffing as he flops back against the computer chair. “He thought I was cheating.”

Kyle laughs. “You, cheating? With Guerin?” Kyle shakes his head.

Alex ignores it, tries not to speak to actually get some work done. His eyes catch one random entry of a Mr. Jones, but nothing clicks into place, and he can’t focus. He can’t stop thinking about the night before: the way Forrest was so angry and broken, the way his lies all caught up to him. He thinks about Forrest staying the night for the first time in months, Forrest saying he loves him. They’ve been dating for six months; that’s definitely enough time to know you love someone. It doesn’t bother him, except—

“Do you love him?” Kyle asks, quietly. Alex’s head shoots up, eyes wide. “Forrest, I mean.”

“I—”

“It’s just, you love Guerin—Michael. That much is obvious. And I don’t doubt your capacity to love more than one person if you think whatever you have with Guerin is completely done.” Kyle discards the paper in front of him, turning to face Alex completely. Alex stiffens, reflexively, but Kyle continues. “But if you’re more concerned about Michael liking Forrest, or Michael being friendly to Forrest, rather than how  _ you  _ feel about him, then maybe it’s true.”

“Maybe what’s true?” Alex asks.

“Alex.” Kyle frowns. Alex doesn’t want to say it; saying it will just make it real, and maybe if he puts it off long enough, he can will himself to believe it. “You’re one of the smartest people I know.”

“I’ve loved him for so long.” It comes out hushed, as if it escaped of its own volition. He puts a hand over his mouth as if to cover up the words, but Kyle’s lips turn up in a small smile. That gives him a little bit of courage to keep talking. “Ever since he took my guitar from the music room. I think I just...” Alex trails off. “I think I’ve loved him the whole time.”

Kyle’s smile is soft, and Alex is so  _ grateful  _ it’s him here and not anyone else. “I think you have, too.”

That sentence causes the dam to break; the guilt that had been eating at Alex for so long consumes him completely, and he sighs heavily, feeling it all at once. “I’ve been leading him on.” Kyle frowns. “Forrest, I mean.”

“Unintentionally,” Kyle points out. Alex frowns.

“Sure, but still. I told him Guerin was old news. I said that to Forrest after I sang my heart out for Guerin and he walked away, and he’s spent the last six months trying to be my friend and I just let it happen because—” He cuts himself off, fingers curling into the cold metal. He sighs. “I want him in my life, no matter the capacity.”

“I think he wants that, too.” Kyle leans back in his chair, and Alex meets his eyes. “Look, I have never in my life been Guerin’s biggest fan. He stole the hubcaps off my car, right? But he has done and would do  _ anything  _ for you. Just... to hear it from an outsider’s perspective, maybe.” Kyle turns back to his discarded documents, leaving Alex’s thoughts to simmer.

He stays silent, pouring over the documents with a renewed intensity, though he’s not actually absorbing any information. His eyes catch a few key words, like cornfields and Mr. Jones’ abandoned farm, but nothing sticks. Kyle is right about a lot, though Alex would never admit that to him, but he’s  _ especially  _ right about this. Alex has just been filling a void with Forrest and hoping against all hope he’d just fall in love with him anyway. 

“You know, I’ve never really loved myself,” Alex says suddenly, and Kyle startles. “Not really. My dad hated me and every part of myself that felt authentic, so  _ I  _ hated it, too. I wanted to be straight in high school just because it would make my life  _ easier.” _

Kyle’s face crumples, and Alex’s heart clenches. “Alex,” he murmurs, but Alex shakes his head.

“And then I met Michael, and I thought he was just experimenting with me, but he  _ liked  _ me. And suddenly I knew I could never be straight, and I  _ knew  _ it would make my life harder but a boy liking me back? That’s everything I’d ever wanted.” Alex laughs, wet, and finds that he’s got a few tears streaming down his face. Kyle nods, encouraging, and Alex takes a deep breath, shaking the tears away. “And then I met Forrest, and somehow I was seeing what I could have been, if my dad hadn’t been who he was. And he’s hot and he’s kind and he’s loving and I didn’t know if I wanted to be  _ with _ him or  _ be  _ him.” Alex gets it, now. The force of what he’s saying stops him cold.

“Ah,” Kyle remarks, as if he gets it, and Alex laughs, incredulous and disbelieving and so,  _ so  _ stupid all at once.

“Being with him has been... wonderful, and exhilarating and freeing in so many ways. And enlightening. Because I know, now.” Alex pauses as his phone lights up. 

**from: Forrest Long, 2:39 pm** **  
** _ went by your house. Are you not home?  _ _  
_ _ I’m still upset, but I want to talk it out. _

He wants to work it out. Alex reads the texts with a clinical precision. He knows the thought should stir something in his gut, make his heart skip a beat, but instead he just feels annoyance. Forrest Long is a good person, an even better boyfriend. But not for Alex.

He’s been silent so long that he jumps a little when Kyle raps the desk with his knuckles. “Earth to Manes. You in there?”

“I don’t love him,” he breathes. Kyle raises his eyebrows, and Alex swallows. “Just. To answer your question. I don’t love him.” 

“You should tell him that, probably,” Kyle says, and Alex nods absentmindedly. “You know, because you are literally in love with someone else.”

Alex shakes his head. “I think I thought I could force myself to love someone else. And I think, maybe, on some level, I do.” He swivels around, leaning back. “The fucking tragedy of all of this is I will never love anyone like I love Michael Guerin.”

“It doesn’t have to be a tragedy.” Kyle looks Alex in the eye, and makes Alex nod. “It can be happy.  _ You  _ can be happy.”

The conversation slows after that, just general points of interest, tidbits they find. It leaves Alex time to think, and by the time they leave and Kyle is blasting the newest Hayley Williams album just for him, Alex knows what he has to do.

He just doesn’t want to  _ do  _ it.

—

It’s telling that instead of immediately going to the Long Farm, Alex goes to the cabin.

He curls up on the new bedding he’d bought for it a mere year earlier, staring up at the ceiling, remembering the times he’d been on leave and instead of staying at his father’s house, he’d come here, and Michael had come over. And they’d laid on the bed in cozy pajamas, because it was December every time and it was  _ cold  _ even though Michael ran hot, and they’d kissed and laughed and talked about nothing, as if they were still together. The times were few and far between, but it was always worth it, to see Michael again, as if no time had passed. It felt... right, good, even. He spent so much time smothering this part of himself that being with Michael was freeing, even if no one could know.

There was a time when Michael had laid in bed with him while he’d had a nightmare. Michael held him like he was something precious, and whispered stupid, romantic things into his ear like  _ you’re going to be okay,  _ and  _ I’ve got you,  _ and  _ it’s okay, I’m here.  _ And that last one—Alex curls further into his pillow, clutching tightly to the worn flannel blanket he’d stolen from Michael’s truck bed, and he laughs to himself, wet and strangled. That last one got him through a world of pain. Michael was there. Michael had been there.

On his best days, Alex wants to share that with someone. When he’s feeling on top of the world, when he’s so happy he could burst, when something  _ good  _ happens, he wants to come home and see that person sitting at the island or on the living room couch or laying in bed and he wants to crawl underneath the covers or sneak up behind them and kiss them until he can’t remember where he ends and they begin. And on his worst days, he wants to see that same person and take comfort in their weight, their smell, the sight of their shirt thrown haphazardly on the chair even though it shouldn’t be there,  _ Michael,  _ people are coming over later—

Alex sits up, scrubbing at his face. “Fuck,” he breathes, biting his lip. He closes his eyes and leans his head back. “Fuck.” His phone buzzes, and he knows without looking who it’s going to be. He’d never answered, earlier, like the absolute dick he is.

**from: Forrest Long, 9:18 pm**   
_ Are you alive? Or is this a completely valid punishment for me yelling at you the other night. _

**to: Forrest Long** **  
** _ I’m alive. Sorry, I’ve been busy at work. Can we talk sometime this week _

He throws his phone to the other side of the mattress, where there’s enough space for another person to be. He doesn’t wait for a response; he pulls out a journal instead, from when he was a teenager. He left them here, so he’d always have them, but not have them so close. His fingers ghost over the cover; there’s MCR stickers and swatches of nail polish and eyeliners he’d stolen from Rosa, and he opens it to a random page.

_ April 3, 2007 - I remember when Kyle Valenti and I used to be friends,  _ it reads.  _ Today, he told me that journaling was gay, and that I was a pussy for writing. I was writing songs, though I guess he doesn’t need to know that. He was my best friend, and now I’m... different and everyone knows it. Fucking stupid, if you ask me. I just hope Dad never finds this. _

Alex shakes his head, heart aching for that sweet, innocent sixteen year old boy he once was. He’s so different now than he was then, with his thick black eyeliner and painted nails and band t-shirts. His hair is short now, and he stands a little straighter, voice a little more clipped, emotions hidden, but where he wished he was straight in 2007 pales in comparison to the honest to goodness pride he feels now, in 2020. He’d always understood the Pride parade as something that wasn’t for him; and maybe it still isn’t, but he is proud, now. He flips a little further, smiling.

_ Feb 29, 2008 - You know that feeling where you see a guy, and there’s just something about him that draws you in? God, Dad can’t see this. But I saw Michael Guerin in the gym today. He was just in weight training but the way the light hit his hair made him look like an angel. I don’t know. I’ve only ever had class with him, and we’ve never really talked beyond the one time we were in a group project together.  _ Alex pauses, fingers skimming over the worn page. That memory suddenly sticks out to him, even though he’d forgotten it now.  _ Everyone was really mean to him when we were in the library, but Isobel Evans came over and told them all to shove it. Well, I think she said something meaner, but she didn’t include me in it. I just wanted to make sure Guerin was okay.  _

(Alex laughs at himself. Even then, seventeen year-old Alex was predictable as hell.)

_ But when I saw him today, he looked happy and free, and something in his smile made me want to talk to him. I didn’t, though. If Isobel and Max Evans hang out with him, he’s definitely too cool for someone like me.  _

“Too cool,” Alex snorts, shaking his head. Hell has to freeze over before he calls Michael Guerin too cool to his face. Alex in February 2008 had no  _ idea  _ what he was going to be up against in a few short months: Guerin’s sweet face, his sweet voice, his soft hair, his romantic lines. He flips forward again.

_ May 24, 2008 - Not much to say, but Guerin defended me from Valenti last night. It was really sweet. Not at all like the conversation we had when he stole my guitar. Liz broke up with Valenti, too! But she and Maria had a girls night after, so I’ve just been sitting here thinking about how my heartbeat was going so fast after Guerin grabbed me.  _

_ June 3, 2008 - Guerin stayed in the shed last night. Stupid me almost kissed him. God, I’m an idiot. He’s obviously straight. He played a song on the guitar though, he’s really good. Maybe he’ll teach me something. _

_ June 8, 2008  _ — Alex’s breath hitches, suddenly. He flips back, but the last entry really  _ was  _ June 3, which meant that he hadn’t written a single thing on the single worst night of his life. He shuts the journal abruptly. “Not today,” he mutters, throwing it onto his backpack, but something calls to him. He shakes his head, shutting it, and falls back against his pillows, willing sleep to take him.

Sunday passes too fast, then Monday and Tuesday and he keeps putting off the difficult conversation he  _ definitely  _ needs to have with his... well, his whatever they are, now. After the fight at the Pony, he doesn’t really know where they stand, but he  _ knows  _ beyond all doubt that it’s going to end this week. There’s an evil alien on the loose, and an evil Manes brother that has been suspiciously quiet, and he’s got to be firing on all cylinders when something inevitably goes wrong. Because it’s Roswell. If something’s going to go wrong, it will.

He comes home on Wednesday to Forrest sitting on his porch, and he knows this is it. Even if Forrest doesn’t.

“Talking sometime this week usually means texting back,” Forrest bites out, but he sounds  _ exhausted,  _ and Alex’s heart cracks just a little. “We fight one time and that’s it?”

Alex’s mouth twists down, and his eyebrows furrow. He shakes his head. “Forrest, it’s not that.”

“But it  _ is _ Guerin, right?” Forrest laughs, but there’s no humor, no mirth in it whatsoever. Only pain and bitterness and maybe if Alex shuts his eyes tight enough he can avoid this. “Maybe it’s not and I misread, but I  _ told  _ you. I’m a big believer in enthusiastic consent. And reciprocal relationships. And for someone who says his whole...” He trails off, a vague handwave in the air his only explanation. “His whole thing, with his ex, is over, you certainly prioritize him a lot.” 

Alex swallows, and he nods. Part of him feels immense guilt, and he’s sure that he should. “You have every right to be mad,” he says evenly, and Forrest scoffs. It hurts. 

“Please do not use crisis negotiation on me.” He stands then, making his way toward Alex, slowly and deliberately. “I’ve told you I loved you five times. You’ve never once said it back.” Alex shakes his head. “Because you can’t say it.”

“I thought I could,” Alex admits, and Forrest’s face falls completely, his demeanor switching from angry to hopeless in a matter of moments. “God, I am so sorry. Because I really wanted Michael Guerin to be a long time ago.”

Forrest nods, and he looks crushed, and Alex feels crushed, and everything sucks. “No, you didn’t. And he wasn’t. So it doesn’t matter.”

Alex shakes his head. “No.”

“Then why did you lead me on like this?” Forrest shakes his head. “No, you know what? No. This wasn’t meant to be.”

“Forrest—”

“No,” Forrest says, and Alex shuts his mouth, the guilt rolling around in his stomach. “It wasn’t meant to be. And I’m really mad at you. But I knew there was something there and I thought I could make you like me anyway.”

“I do like you,” Alex blurts out. “There’s just...”

“Always going to be Guerin?” Forrest suggests. Alex nods. “Yeah. I’m going to go.”

Alex doesn’t try to stop him. He turns away, hearing the tires as Forrest’s car peels away. He wonders, belatedly, if he should feel shame, but he just feels sick with relief at not pretending anymore, even if he feels guilty for hurting Forrest the way he did. 

(Six months ago he’d been so happy. But there really will always be Michael Guerin. And fuck him for that.)

He takes a deep, shaky breath, and pulls his phone out, texting the group chat and hoping beyond all hope that Michael is not the person who answers first.

_ two alien emojis _

**to: group, 6:19 pm**   
_ Is anyone around to come over and help me get rid of some things? _

**from: Rosa Ortecho**   
_ if i speed i can be there in 10 minutes _   
**from: Liz Ortecho** **  
** _ Do you only need one person? Is Rosa the right person? Please don’t speed _ _  
_ **from: Rosa Ortecho** **  
** _ k mom i’m gonna go help alex though _

Alex laughs at that, and tells them one person is fine before he sits on his porch, hard, and puts his head in his hands, every single emotion trying to hit him all at once. A few tears slip out, but he manages to keep himself mostly together, which is good because Rosa pulls up entirely too fast. He looks up, sniffling and brows furrowed, and he stands.

“You were totally speeding,” he accuses, and Rosa’s answering grin as she hops out of Liz’s SUV is blinding. “Thank you.”

“No problem, kid,” she answers, and he shakes his head. She used to call him that, when he was 14 and smaller than her and gay as a maypole, but he didn’t want anyone to know. It’s so funny, now, that she’s 21 and he’s 29 and he’s lived so much life compared to her. She takes in his USAF shirt and shakes her head. “I can’t believe you really went off to war.”

“I can’t believe you stole Liz’s car,” he counters, and she shrugs.

“She gave me the keys.” She walks through his front door, spring in her step as she calls back to him. “So, Captain, where’s the stuff we’re getting rid of?” He follows her in, shutting the door, and sighs. She turns back. “Or are we not getting rid of anything...?”

He leans against his closed door, running his fingers through his hair. “Forrest just ended things with me,” he says, and Rosa’s face morphs from confusion to concern.

“Damn, like just today?”

“Like just 30 minutes ago.” He shakes his head, shrugging as he moves to the couch. She follows him, her face worried and pinched the way Liz’s gets. The best thing about Rosa, though, is that she won’t try and solve your problem. “To be fair, I’m kind of still in love with someone else, so he wasn’t wrong to end things.”

She nods, a small, bemused smile gracing her face. “Kind of?” she parrots. “Kind of in love with?”

Alex huffs out a laugh, throwing a pillow at her. “That’s not fair!” He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning his head back against the arm of his couch, sighing. “You didn’t even know until Isobel said anything.”

“Because  _ no one  _ thought to  _ tell me  _ that you dated!” She flails her arms emphatically, and Alex laughs again. “I guess it happened after I died, but whatever.”

“The day of, actually,” Alex says, quietly. Rosa stops, then, freezing. “He kissed me, we had sex, he left and found you.” He knows he’s skipped a bunch, and Rosa shakes her head. “What if you read about it instead? It’s—a hard story to tell.” He shrugs, and Rosa nods.

“Okay,” she says, her eyes kind. Alex has missed her. So he tells her to follow him and they sit on his bed and Alex takes out his journal from his backpack. He’d brought it with him, just in case, and he supposes having Rosa read about it is a good enough reason. She smiles when she sees the cover. “That’s my eyeliner.”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling back. “This used to be my songwriting journal. You used to doodle on the front.” 

Rosa laughs. “I remember. It was only, like, a year ago for me.” She takes it from him, running her hand over it. “What day?” 

“June 8th.” He leans back, and Rosa opens the journal, shifting so they can both read it. He’s appreciative that she won’t do this without him present. He would’ve told, but... how do you say  _ yeah, my dad broke my boyfriend’s hand and then we still dated even after he’d covered up your murder by his sister who he thought was going through a mental break but then I left and he turned down a scholarship and now here we are? _

You don’t say that, and Alex knows that. He can’t. He takes a deep breath.

_ June 8, 2008 - Liz called. Rosa is dead. I haven’t stopped crying since last night. _

_ Dad broke Guerin’s hand with a hammer. We weren’t even all the way undressed but Dad walked in. He wasn’t going to do anything to him but Guerin tried to stop him from beating me, and ended up with a broken hand. Dad just smashed it, and Guerin wouldn’t go see a doctor. His hand is completely fucked. Rosa’s still dead. How can I ask for anything when Rosa’s dead? _

Alex runs his hands over his face, and Rosa reaches out for him, grabbing his wrist. He stills, and looks on.  _ Yesterday was the best day of my life until that happened. I cried myself to sleep in the shed, and then I woke up to Liz and Maria saying that Rosa was dead. It’s like everything fell apart all at once. Kate Long and Jasmine Frederick died too. It’s all so fucked up. _

_ Guerin won’t answer my texts. I asked him if he’s okay, but I’ve gotten nothing back. I’m going to see Maria if Dad will let me, because we’re all so fucked up about this. _

_ June 9, 2008 - the police said Rosa was driving high. But that’s stupid. Liz said she never would’ve done that, but now Liz is leaving in three days. She’s not even going to stay for graduation. I saw Guerin—Michael, though. He came by the UFO Emporium, and we hugged for a while. He seemed really upset, and when I asked him why, he said Isobel had been friends with Rosa, and it hurt to see her sad. I don’t really remember Rosa being friends with Isobel, but she mentioned an Izzy before. He asked if I was okay too, and he brushed my hair out of my face. I think I love him.  _

Alex feels tears prickling at the corner of his eyes, and Rosa puts the journal down and throws her arms around his neck. “Alex,” she whispers into his neck, and he hugs her back, fierce and tight and pours all the love into it. “God.” She pulls back a little, wiping her tears away quickly. “What a fucked up time for everyone, huh?”

Alex exhales, shaky and loud. “Yeah.”

“You totally still love him, too.” Rosa doesn’t frame it like a question or an accusation. It feels like one nonetheless. “But you had me read that.” Alex nods, not trusting his voice. “Why?”

“Because, Rosa.” He sighs, frustrated, letting his head fall against his headboard. “We destroyed that shed, finally. We got rid of the biggest source of our trauma hanging over our heads, and he still walked away. And I’m  _ still  _ pining over him.” He laughs, bitterness seeping in. “Couldn’t be a good boyfriend to Forrest, have  _ never  _ been a good... whatever, to Michael, and that is why.”

Rosa shakes her head, fervent. “No. I refuse to believe that,” she says, poking her polished finger into his chest. “You love him. He loves you. You both needed some time to work through everything you’ve been through and yet you still love each other.” She throws her hands up in the air, and Alex laughs as a stray tear escapes his eye. “My God, Alex, you are so  _ stupid  _ sometimes. That romance? Everything you felt? It’s still there.”

Alex can’t speak yet, so he just takes several deep breaths. Rosa is patient; she waits him out as he processes. He thinks about it; everything she said is true, but for some reason he is still so nervous, that this is it, somehow, that this is the end of their path. “I love him so much,” he says, and Rosa hums.

“I know,” she murmurs. She brushes his hair out of his eyes, and he’s jolted back to when he was 16 and sitting in Liz’s bed and Rosa had come in, startlingly sober and he’d had a bruise on his chin. She’d stormed over to him, demanding to know who’d done this to him. He’d shaken his head, tears threatening to spill over, and she’d hugged him tight, saying  _ it’s okay, it’s okay, I’ll make sure you’re safe  _ as she’d stroked his hair. He’d believed her then, and he still believes her now.

“I hurt Forrest,” he says, voice flat. “I really thought I could get over Guerin with someone else.”

“Sometimes, Alex, you are so stupid.” Rosa laughs, knocking her shoulder against his, and he laughs, too. His phone buzzes, and it’s Isobel, saying she’s on her way over, and Rosa shakes her head. “I swear, she’s like a puppy following me around.” Rosa rolls her eyes, but it’s fond, and Alex smiles. 

“Oh?”

Rosa shakes her head. “We are going to eat pizza and watch a movie and forget all about this dumb boy.”

“Guerin?” Alex asks, but Rosa’s already pulling her phone out to call Isobel.

“No, Forrest. He just dumped you. That calls for pizza, beer, and a movie.” She’s holding the phone up to her ear, and he can hear Isobel chirping in the background. “No, Izzy. Just cheese pizza, okay? And pick up some beer, too?” Alex tries to wave it off, but Rosa protests. “You can never have too much. No,  _ I’m  _ not drinking, obviously. No! Alex got dumped, okay? We’re gonna make him feel better.” She pauses, and Isobel sounds like she’s talking animatedly. “Mhm. No, Iz, just cheese. What do you  _ mean  _ you don’t like just cheese?” 

As she gets up to walk out of the room, Alex lets his eyes close. Rosa’s voice is soothing, and he knows he hasn’t seen her as much as he would’ve liked. He’s just so  _ different  _ than he was the last time she’d seen him. He was an eyeliner wearing, painted nails emo kid with caramel highlights, and he could  _ not  _ be more different, now. Rosa, unlike Maria and Liz, didn’t seem to care, and she loved him anyway. She isn’t awkward around him like he thought she’d be. Instead, she gives him hugs and texts him dumb jokes and though he doesn’t answer the way he used to, it’s the thought that counts, and he loves her for it.

His thoughts float to Michael, though, and he’s seized with an intense longing. He should be thinking about Forrest, about the hurt he’d caused, but he can’t help focusing on Michael’s curls and the slope of his nose, the way only he can see when they’re up close and kissing. He  _ misses  _ him, even though he sees him more now than he ever used to when they were doing their stupid song and dance.  _ I think I love him,  _ the journal read, and Alex knows even at 17 he loved Michael Guerin, and he loves him now, only deeper and more all-consuming. He’s had eleven years to fall more in love, and that’s all he’s done.

“Get up, mopey,” Isobel calls, throwing a pillow from his couch at his face, startling Alex. It hits him, and he flails his arms and legs at the contact. “We’re watching  _ 13 Going on 30  _ and you are joining.”

True to what Rosa said, there’s cheese pizza and surprise popcorn and beer, and Isobel and Rosa laugh through the whole movie. He can’t even hear what’s being said, but he’s seen it before, so he doesn’t care. He knows Mark Ruffalo and Jennifer Garner end up together, and the thought makes him smile.

Rosa and Isobel don’t make him talk, and he lets their voices wash over him, feeling content and safe.

—

Alex does manage to avoid Forrest around town, somehow. He sees him at the Crashdown once, and he slips into the booth next to Max while he’s talking to Isobel and Michael, and Max smiles.

“Well, hello, Captain Manes.” He does a lazy salute, and Alex laughs. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Sorry,” he says, looking over his shoulder. “Uh, trying to avoid my ex. You can absolutely pretend I’m not here.”

Michael’s eyebrows practically reach his hairline, and Max clucks sympathetically. “Man, that sucks, Alex. Forrest seemed really nice.”

“He is,” Alex says, shrugging. “Wasn’t, uh. Meant to be.” He flashes a small smile. “It’s no big deal. Just continue on with your conversation.”

“Wasn’t much of a conversation, honestly,” Michael says, but he’s got a twinkle in his eye. Alex narrows his eyes, and Michael winks. “Unless you count proposal plans?”

Alex’s jaw drops. “No. No way.”

Max’s face flushes, and Isobel cackles. “Not so  _ loud,  _ Michael!” he hisses, and Alex laughs. “It’s still nebulous, but I’ve... got ideas.”

“Max Evans, a married man.” Alex claps him on the shoulder, and Max’s smile is so blinding Alex can’t help but smile back. “I’m so happy for you.” A thought strikes him. “Oh, my god. None of my high school friends have gotten married.”

Isobel frowns. “I did.”

“Isobel, I love you. But we were not friends in high school,” he points out, and she rolls her eyes, nodding her head. His brows furrow, and he looks her in the eye. “Did you  _ have  _ friends in high school?”

“Rude,” she scoffs, as Michael laughs. His stomach flips over with pleasure at the sound. She points between Michael and Max, who are giving her the most shit-eating brotherly grins Alex has ever seen. “I had them, okay? And my reputation to uphold.” She sniffs, pressing her lips together in a thin line. Alex nods at her, and a giggle slips out. He smiles, triumphantly, and she flips him off. “Oh fuck off, Manes.”

“What would Ann Evans say?” Michael gasps, putting a hand over his heart, overdramatic. “An f-bomb? In public?”

“I’ve been hanging out with you too much,” she says, saccharine, kissing him on the cheek with a loud smack. 

Alex laughs, and the conversation switches back to Max’s impending proposal ideas, until Max turns to him. “Is this like, bothering you?” he asks, and Alex tilts his head. “The conversation being about proposals?”

“Oh.” Alex sighs a little, shaking his head. “Not really. I didn’t ever think I was going to marry him.” Isobel shoots him a sympathetic look, and Max nods, but Michael... Michael is unreadable. Alex tries to make eye contact, but Michael expertly avoids his gaze. “I’m excited to hear about it.”

Max nods. “Cool. So I’m going to ask for Arturo’s permission...” Alex tunes it out, mostly, content to stare at Michael’s profile while Max waxes poetic. The way Michael’s eyes shut when he laughs, the way he throws his head back, the way his eyes crinkle. Alex could stare for hours and learn something new about Michael Guerin. 

When Max finally falls silent, Isobel and Michael follow his line of sight. Forrest is there, standing with another guy as he presses a kiss onto his cheek. 

“Wow,” Isobel drawls. “He moves on fast, huh?”

“Guys,” Alex starts, and Michael shrugs.

“Seems like a dick move since he knows you’re here,” Michael says, and Max nods, but Alex shakes his head.

“Look it was my fault, okay? I don’t want to talk about it.” He feels his face heat up, and Max frowns. “It’s not, ugh. It’s not important, okay? Honestly.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Michael asks, and Alex blinks at him. Michael’s face is open and kind and there’s concern in his eyes and Alex absolutely has no clue what to do with that. It makes his stupid stomach flutter. “Alex?”

“Yeah, I am totally fine, Guerin. Don’t worry about me.” Michael seems to take that at face value, then, and the conversation shifts once more. When Alex looks around for Liz, much later, he realizes he didn’t even notice Forrest had left. 

Maybe it will be okay.

—

Except, well.

Admittedly, Alex was not paying super close attention in the group chat and at the meetings his friends were holding. Maria and Isobel had put their alien brains together to come up with a plan to try and lure Mr. Jones out, to catch him, or whatever. 

Alex is a captain in the Air Force; you don’t get to be there without paying attention, but Alex has learned the art of getting the details for what he’s supposed to be doing, what the units tangential to him are supposed to be doing, and listening to nothing else. So when it comes to the plan, he knows Michael is supposed to show up alone to set up the projector, and he and Isobel will be there in the shadows in case something goes wrong, and Max, Liz, and Kyle will be five minutes behind. Maria and Rosa declined the invite for some reason, or maybe they’re supposed to be at the Pony, but they’re not tangential to him, so he really  _ does not know _ . At some point during their final meeting at the Crashdown, he leans over to ask Michael about the purpose of the projector, and Michael frowns. “We’re going to the drive-in, Alex, did you miss the whole discussion?”

So maybe Alex should’ve paid closer attention. 

All he knows is that Isobel rented the place out, so it’s just going to be them. He’s got a bad feeling about this, but he’s got a bad feeling about everything, these days, so he lets it slide. If something’s going to go wrong, it will. He’s learned that. It’s Roswell. 

They’re on a strict timeline, so naturally, something happens to fuck that up. Michael texts and says that Sanders needs him to work on a truck until his shift is officially over at 6, and that’s when Michael is supposed to be at the drive-in. So Isobel begs Alex for Forrest’s number, because she knows he’s set up the projector before, and Alex tells Michael it’s covered. 

Alex spends the whole day crawling out of his skin, but by the time he shows up to pick up Isobel, he’s got it under control, and is the picture of control. 

“So. Michael will get there by 6:15,” he says, and Isobel nods. “And  _ we’ll _ be there waiting in the proverbial wings because...?”

“I know you want to make sure he’s okay,” Isobel says easily, and Alex chokes on his own spit. “And I want to make sure he’s okay, and I have alien superpowers.”

“Yeah, that checks out,” Alex says, still coughing, and they turn into the parking lot at 5:45, just in time to see Forrest shutting his truck door and grumbling to himself. 

“Ugh!” Isobel exclaims, and Alex turns to her. “He’s late, okay? This whole plan hinges on time.”

“Forrest doesn’t know that because he’s not an  _ alien  _ or friend of the pod,” Alex shoots back, and then laughs at his own joke.

“Oh, that was so bad,” Isobel laughs, and Alex smiles as they make their way to the stage. When they get up there, she stands for a moment, looking between Alex and Forrest, and Alex reaches a hand out, but she waves anyway. “Hi, Forrest! Thanks again!”

He looks up and waves, and Alex feels another wave of guilt wash over him. Forrest is turned back around by the time Isobel and Alex are crouched under the stage. “This is going to be so bad for my leg,” he says, and Isobel looks up, eyes wide. “Don’t worry. I’ll live.”

The familiar rumble of Michael’s truck starts down the lane, and Alex looks to Isobel. “He’s early,” she whispers, and Alex shakes his head. “Something’s not right.”

“Maybe he got off sooner?” Alex says, when a shot rings out. 

A shot.

Everything feels like it’s slow motion sped up and Alex can’t get a moment to think. He moves without thinking, running to the sound of it, and sees nothing except Michael, leaning down against his truck, hand pressed to his side. 

“Holy shit,” Forrest breathes, coming out from behind the projector. Michael doesn’t move. Forrest looks horrified, but not squeamish. Alex is grateful for that, for one moment. “Guerin, shit, are you okay?”

There’s a moment where Alex thinks maybe this is a joke or a dream or he’s hallucinating, and his ex-boyfriend didn’t just see Michael Guerin get shot and he’s imagining the whole thing vividly in his head like he does unwillingly in the middle of the night. It’s almost comical, how calm it all is for one second, and the only sound is Michael groaning. 

“Michael!” Isobel screams, shattering all pretense, and the terror in her voice makes Alex’s blood run cold. There’s a scramble of voices, then, and Isobel is telling Forrest not to call 911, and Forrest is arguing with her as she cradles Michael’s head, hands gentle despite her harsh tone. Alex can’t stop staring, with an unfortunate morbid fascination like he’s witnessing a violent trainwreck. He can’t seem to do  _ anything. _ He out of his body, willing himself to move, but all he can see is the _ stupid fucking blood stain _ on Michael’s abdomen that’s growing by the second. Isobel is looking at him, and her lips are moving, but Alex can’t make out a single thing. She’s crying, and finally, her voice pierces through his fog. “—Alex, tell him not to call 911,” he hears through her sobs, and Alex shakes his head, then, like his brain is coming back online.

“You can’t, Forrest,” he snaps, and then he’s running to Michael’s side, and gripping his hand. Michael smiles up at him, and Alex gives him a small smile back, shaking his head. Forrest’s fingers still over his phone screen, and he lowers it at the sound of Alex’s voice. Alex looks up at him, then. “No doctors.”

“I’m calling Kyle,” Isobel says, and she transfers Michael’s body weight to Alex. “Pick up, pick up...”

Michael’s eyes flutter open at the contact, and Alex brushes his hair out of his eyes. Michael smiles. “Hey.”

“Hey, Guerin,” he says, and it comes out choked. He laughs, sniffling. “What’d you get shot for, huh? That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“No, definitely wasn’t.” Michael hisses in pain, and Alex shifts them to a more comfortable position.

“Sorry, sorry,” he mutters, smoothing Michael’s curls back again. He frowns. “You feel warm.”

“I run hot,” Michael chokes out, and Alex swallows the lump in his throat. “Hey, Alex?”

“Hey, what?” Alex tries not to jostle him, and moves a hand over where Michael’s is still pressed against the ever-growing stain. Michael doesn’t respond, right away, and Alex presses on the wound. Michael yelps. “Stay awake for me, okay? What did you want to say?”

“I can remove the bullet,” Forrest says suddenly, cutting off whatever Michael was going to say. Alex’s head snaps to him. Michael’s eyes widen. “I was a field medic. If you have the right tools I can remove the bullet if it’s stuck in there, or at least stabilize the wound until Kyle gets here.”

“Forrest,” Alex starts, and Forrest shakes his head.

“I  _ can,  _ okay, Alex? I don’t want him to die, either.”

Isobel returns, sliding in behind Michael and cradling his head in her lap. She presses a kiss to his sweaty forehead, and he smiles. “Michael, stay awake for me, okay? Kyle was stuck at the hospital, but he’s coming.” Michael groans, but opens his eyes. She kisses his forehead again.

Of all the things that could’ve gone wrong,  _ this  _ did, and they don’t even know if this was evil alien bullshit or evil human bullshit. If Alex wasn’t so used to this, he’d be angry. 

“Forrest wants to remove the bullet,” he says, and Isobel’s head snaps to him. “He was a field medic.” They look at each other, and Alex tries to telepathically convey to her that he trusts Forrest, but maybe not with alien knowledge. It is, after all, a big step. But he takes one look at Michael’s pale face and hears his erratic breathing and he looks up. “I trust him, Isobel.”

She nods, then, taking a deep breath. “He’s an alien.” Forrest blinks. “So no real doctors. And it’s not quite the same as operating on a human, and—”

“Okay.” He looks around, and back at Alex. Alex is so impressed by his willingness to go along with this that he would, quite honestly, do anything for him in this moment. “Do you have a first aid kid in your car?”

Forrest is gentle, and kind, and Michael huffs out a laugh for him to make him feel better, and Alex grips his hand the whole time Forrest looks at the wound. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, worrying at a spot on the side as he checks around. “I think the bullet shattered,” he says. It sounds clinical and clipped, but there’s a twinge of worry in his voice that makes Alex’s stomach lurch. “Guerin, why’d you have to make this hard for me?”

“Wasn’t... trying to,” Michael manages, and Alex can feel the dull ache around his knee already from the position he’s in, but he doesn’t want to move in case it hurts Michael more _.  _ After all, Michael’s the one with a bullet wound. “Iz?”

“I’m here, Mikey,” she says, and she sounds so young that Alex feels like crying. She moves her fingers around his curls, and he closes his eyes. “What is it?”

“Where’s Max?” he asks, voice small.

“He and Liz are coming, okay?” She smooths his hair back again, and Alex lifts Michael’s hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. Michael shudders, and Forrest swears. “Stay still for Forrest, okay? Max is almost here, I can feel it.”

“I’m scared,” Michael admits, and Alex covers his mouth, trying to stop the sob from coming out of his mouth. He takes a deep breath, and exhales.

“I’m not,” he says, and his voice manages to only shake a little. Michael’s eyes snap to him, and Alex tries to smile. Judging by Isobel’s expression, he doesn’t quite manage. “You’re going to be just fine, because I can  _ hear  _ Max’s car pulling up, okay?” Forrest pulls away, then, and sighs. “What is it?”

“It’s... only out in fragments, I think. There’s something else wrong, too,” he says, and his brows furrow. “Like there’s an infection ravaging his body. The bullet didn’t hit an organ so it should’ve been the least of our problems.” Alex feels vaguely sick.

“Do you feel feverish?” he asks Michael, and Michael hums. “Guerin. Michael. Hey, look at me.” Michael’s eyes open, and he moves his head. Alex smiles. “Hi. Do you feel feverish?”

“Dunno what a fever feels like,” he mumbles, and Isobel exhales shakily as Max runs over. 

“Michael,  _ Michael,  _ hey, bud,” he says, and he’s frantic, his movements jerky and small, like he’s going to break Michael by just looking at him. Alex swallows the even bigger lump in his throat. “Hey. Can I heal you? You cool with that?”

“‘S’poison,” Michael slurs, and Max makes a noise as he grabs for Michael’s free hand. “Forrest says no.”

“No, Guerin, I didn’t say that.” Forrest pulls off his gloves, and he sits down, hard. His face is contorted in pain, and that doesn’t make Alex feel any better. “I don’t know what that means but go for it, Evans, because I think I’m out of options.” 

Liz rounds the corner then, and she takes everything at once, and takes a deep breath. “I’m calling Kyle,” she announces, and Alex doesn’t bother telling her that Isobel already did. Michael looks up at her, and he looks all of seventeen. Liz must think the same thing, because her voice is watery when she speaks again. “Hey, Mikey. We’re gonna fix you up, okay?”

Max and Isobel start talking to Michael in low tones, and he seems to be listening, so Alex is content to sit and squeeze his hand for a while, no matter how much weaker Michael seems to be getting by the minute. Liz comes over and checks on Forrest while Alex studies Michael’s face.

If he disregards everything that makes Michael look like he’s on death’s door, he can pretend that Michael is just minutes away from sleep. That’s one of his favorite Michaels; the one who rubs his eyes as he’s falling asleep and wakes up with a nose scrunch and a yawn every time. He’s soft in the mornings; his sharp edges smoothed by the drowsiness of sleep and his face relaxed. Despite his hard life, he’s always woken up happy, at least when Alex has been in bed with him. 

Michael’s eyes close, then and Alex is startled from his reverie by Max pressing his hand onto the wound. He looks weak, and Alex isn’t losing  _ two  _ aliens today. “Max, stop!” he yells. Liz abandons Forrest in favor of pushing Max’s hand away. “Michael, wake up,” Alex says, putting pressure on Michael’s side. Michael groans, and simultaneous relief and disbelief courses through Alex’s entire body.

“I have to keep him alive,” Max says, voice breaking, and Liz throws her arms around his neck. Alex shudders, feeling cold. “Until Kyle can get here,  _ please,  _ Liz.”

“You can’t strain your heart,” Liz murmurs, and she looks at Michael, eyes glassy. She looks up to the sky, and inhales sharply. “If it’s a poison I could make an antidote? Right?” 

“How long do you think he  _ has?”  _ Isobel snaps, and Michael groans again, pushing weakly at Isobel with the hand Max was once holding. Isobel muffles a sob as she presses her lips to Michael’s hair. “I’m sorry, Michael. I didn’t mean to yell.”

“S’loud,” Michael says, and he looks over at Max, then up at Isobel, then over at Alex, and Alex squeezes his hand. Michael squeezes it back, gentle. “S’my three favorite people.” His words slur together, and Alex leans down, pressing a kiss to his temple. Isobel smooths a stray curl away from his eyes. “M’glad you’re here. With me. While I’m dying.” Alex squeezes a little too hard at that. Michael coughs a little. “M’tired.”

Liz shakes her head, and her voice is thick with tears when she speaks. “No, Mikey, Kyle will be here so soon, okay? He’s got something to help you. Just hang on for him, okay?”

Michael groans. “Tired, Liz.” His head turns to face Alex, and it’s like there’s no one else there when they make eye contact. “Alex,” he says, and Alex loves him.

“Hey,” he says back, and he strokes Michael’s cheek. “You should stop talking, okay? Save your energy so you can heal when Kyle gets here.”

“Alex,” Michael says again, and Alex nods, rubbing his thumb over Michael’s cheekbone.

“I’m here.”

“Love you,” he mumbles, and Alex’s stomach drops. “Really do. D’you know that?”

Alex feels tears on his face, but he reaches for Michael’s hair with one hand, tugging on a curl while he squeezes Michael’s hand. “I know, Michael. I know. And I love you, too, okay?”

“That’s cool.” Michael’s smile is soft, and his eyes drift closed again. Distantly, Alex registers Isobel sobbing. Michael keeps talking, though, and Alex has never been more grateful for the sound of his voice. “We should date.”

Alex laughs; it’s wet and choked and desperate, but bright nonetheless. Michael smiles, and Alex feels himself crying harder. “I’ll take you anywhere you want, okay? But you have to promise not to die on me.” He can barely get the words out.

“Alex,” Liz starts, but he shakes his head, tears coming faster.

“Do you hear me, Guerin?”

Michael moves his head. Alex thinks he’s nodding. “Cold,” he says, and Alex presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Guerin, I need you to listen to me,” Alex says, quietly, seriously. Michael’s eyes fly open, then, and Alex takes a deep breath. Michael moves his hand to try and wipe the tears away, but Alex shakes his head. “No, no, it’s okay, Michael. Let me take care of you, right now. Just listen to me. Are you?” Michael looks at him, and there’s pain and fear but trust in his eyes for Alex. Alex rubs his thumb over the back of Michael’s hand. “You can’t die yet because we didn’t get to live out the dream I had when I was away. Remember? I told you about it, when we were twenty-three.” He swallows the lump in his throat, and Michael smiles at him, so Alex exhales shakily and continues on. “The one where we got married and bought a house and had kids and grew old and had grandkids and a dog and a stupid white picket fence, and we were happy.” Michael’s eyes soften at that, and Alex is sobbing now, he recognizes, and Liz is yelling for Kyle and he can hear Kyle telling Michael to move his hand, but Michael’s eyes are trained on Alex’s. He presses a kiss to the back of Michael’s hand. “We still have to do that, okay? I love you,  _ I love you _ . We have so much life left to live. So you can’t die yet.”

“You want all that?” Michael chokes out, and Alex bites his lip to keep from crying, smoothing Michael’s hair back. “Well, I’ve never been able to say no to you.”

A sob escapes from Alex’s mouth, and he gasps for air. “Michael, please.”

“Want that... too.” Michael’s eyes are clear for a moment. “Love you.” His eyes stay open, but Kyle swears.

“No, Guerin, stay with me!” Kyle yells, but Alex is looking at Michael. His eyes aren’t scared anymore, just open, and Max pushes Kyle out of the way, putting a hand to the wound. He screams, and Liz is sobbing, and Alex is still staring into Michael’s lifeless eyes, unable to let go of his hand. Michael’s eyes shut, then, and Max collapses into Liz’s lap. “Okay, Evans. Never do that again.”

“He has to stay  _ alive,”  _ Max begs, and Alex wants to stop crying so badly, but he can’t, because this is his worst fear played out for everyone to see. He can’t breathe, nothing is working, and he feels like he’s going to vomit. Michael squeezes Alex’s hand, and then Max’s, and Max starts sobbing, then.

Alex feels like he’s in a fucking  _ movie,  _ and this death is too long, drawn out, and dramatic, but it  _ is _ the worst thing that could have ever happened to him. Michael stills, then, and Alex sobs. He didn’t know how much worse life could get until this; Michael’s death is what’s going to tip him over the edge. Everyone is sobbing, and Michael won’t open his eyes. Alex sits back, numb, and watches as Kyle pushes a syringe into Michael’s arm, and starts CPR, and Alex can’t breathe, he can’t move, he can’t feel anything, it’s all too much—

And then Isobel takes his hand.

—

Alex feels Isobel let go of him, and when he looks around, he knows they’re near Foster’s Ranch, but not quite. The vast expanse of desert surrounds them, seeming to stretch on forever. He looks at Isobel, and she looks back at him, and then opens her mouth. 

“Michael!” she’s calling, and Alex grabs her arm. 

“What the fuck are we doing?” he hisses, and she shrugs him off, opting to yell Michael’s name again. “Isobel!”

“We’re in his mind, and you’re here with me.” She looks around at the vast expanse, frustrated with her inability to locate anything of note. “Michael!”

“Wanna tell me why?” He shakes his head then, and when he looks to the right, he spots Michael’s truck. His heart leaps out of his chest, and he grabs Isobel’s arm. “Look, Isobel. There.” He points, and Isobel follows it to Michael’s truck bed, and they run, yelling his name, frantic. Alex can’t help but feel like they’re running out of time. 

He sits up, looking sleep-rumpled and well-rested, and the relief and dread that floods Alex almost knocks him over. Michael’s calm to their terror is jarring. “Isobel?” he asks, confusion miring his tone. He looks past her to Alex, a small smile on his lips. “Alex? How are you guys here?”

“You’re dying, Michael,” Isobel says, and Michael’s smile fades in favor of his lips twisting into a frown, guilt settling in. Alex’s breath hitches, and Michael looks up at him.

“I know.” He looks around, taking it all in for a second. Alex frowns, and Isobel scoffs. “This is my favorite spot, you know?” He looks back to Alex, then, and his warm, brown eyes are soft and happy. “I used to take you here all the time.”

“I remember, Michael.” And he does. It’s a memory from seventeen, from twenty, from twenty-five. Alex smiles, takes a step toward him, reaching his hand out. Michael tangles their fingers together. He feels warm and solid. “Why won’t you come back?”

“I see my mom.” Michael tilts his face to the sky. Alex keeps his eyes trained on Michael. “Not when she was old. I can see her.” Isobel moves, but Alex sticks his hand out to stop her. She does.

Alex squeezes Michael’s fingers. Michael looks back at him. His face is free of worry, in a way he’s never really seen. “Is she happy to see you?”

“She’s happy to see  _ you,”  _ Michael says with a bubbling laugh. Alex’s breath hitches. Alex hears Isobel sniffle, and tries his damnedest to keep his tears at bay. “Alex?” Alex hums, smiling. Michael’s face turns serious, then, a frown growing. “I miss you already. You should go before I die. I don’t know what happens if you’re here when I die.”

“What if you came back with us?” Alex says, pulling Michael closer, so his feet dangle off the truck bed. Michael smiles, and Alex brushes a curl from in front of his eye. “I miss you, too. Do you remember what I said? About marriage and kids and taking you anywhere you want for a date?”

MIchael leans in and kisses him, and it feels so real that Alex could stay here forever, he thinks, if only Michael would keep kissing him. Michael hums against his lips. “Sounds nice,” he murmurs, and Alex nods.

“But you have to come back, okay?” Alex is pleading, and Michael’s mindscape is no longer an open, sunny desert. There’s a storm brewing, and it’s getting closer. “Please, Michael. I can’t do all of that without you.”

“I’m trying,” Michael says suddenly, and he’s gasping for air, like he’s choking. “I’m trying!”

The wind picks up, and then Alex is kneeling next to Michael’s lifeless body, and Kyle is timing something with a stopwatch, and Max looks destroyed. “Come on, Guerin,” Kyle says, and his lower lip is trembling. “Don’t fucking do this to us.”

And Michael’s eyes open.

—

The kitchen in Alex’s house is fuller than it’s ever been.

He has a text from Forrest that’s three days old, and it reads,  _ tell Guerin I hope he feels better when he wakes up,  _ and Alex wishes he could make good on that promise.

He feels like a passive participant in his own life, while Kyle and Max cook and Liz grabs water just in case Michael wakes up, and Isobel sits next to him, head on his shoulder, while she stares at her cup of coffee like she can will it into her body. Maria and Rosa come through the front door to relieve Kyle.

“Get to work, Doc,” Rosa calls out, pressing against Alex’s side, a gentle  _ I’m here  _ that he receives gratefully. She presses a kiss to Isobel’s temple, moving toward the bedroom. “That means you too, Liz!”

Alex smiles, and Isobel moves then, stretching out. “Did you even touch your coffee?” he asks, and Isobel snorts, standing up. Her answer is implied, but Liz comes out of the bedroom, wild-eyed and hair flowing behind her. Rosa bumps into her. Alex’s heartbeat spikes. “Liz?”

“He’s awake, how am I supposed to go to work? Who’s going to take care of him?  _ Kyle,”  _ she stresses, and Kyle abandons the omelette he was cooking in favor of walking briskly toward the bedroom. Alex bumps into Liz, and he realizes he was following Kyle before his brain even registered it. “Let Kyle check on him first, please?” she asks, and Alex deflates, anger bubbling up in his chest. He walks out his back door and slams it, sitting hard on the back step. 

His body hurts from sleeping upright in a chair for three nights straight, he’s miserable, and now Liz is pretending like Alex wouldn’t know exactly what Michael needs, which is to be  _ left alone.  _

He knows, logically, that Kyle needs to check on Michael and make sure everything is fine, but all this is doing is giving him time to spiral, and he’s mad at Liz for enabling that. The back door opens, and he turns around, ready to cut with words, but it’s Maria, and she looks sympathetic.

“Liz means well,” she begins, and Alex narrows his eyes. She holds up a hand. “But she’s always been allowed to be in the room when Max has woken up.”

Alex sighs. “Yeah.”

“Michael’s asking for you, though. He recognized your guest bedroom.” 

“Do you think it’s weird?” Alex asks, suddenly, and Maria tilts her head. Alex exhales, loud and harsh. “That we took him here and not to Max’s. Like, does he even  _ want  _ to be here? Should he just be with his family? Should we have taken him back to the airstream? Would he be more comfortable there?” Alex feels out of control and vaguely shaky, and maybe that’s from too many hours awake and too many cups of coffee. He opens his mouth to speak again, but Maria puts a hand on his shoulder.

“I think,” she says, firm but gentle, “that he’s right where he’s supposed to be. And that you’re his family, too.”

Alex swallows, looking away from her. “Maria.”

“Look, Alex,” she starts, and then she shakes her head. “We’ve never really talked about it, right? Because you didn’t want to.” The three cups of coffee he’d already had this morning feels like a big lump in his stomach. “I think I didn’t want to see that there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for each other. I think you’d die for him.”

Alex blinks. He doesn’t know how to say he’s thought about it a million times already.

“And I’m sorry I wanted to get between that. But I’m saying...” She runs her hand through her hair, movements harsh. “I’m saying you have every right to want him here. Because you love him. And he wants to be here, because he wants to look at you when he wakes up.” She looks in his eyes, and he feels warm. “I’m not saying that as a psychic. I’m saying that as your best friend.”

“I forgive you,” he blurts out. Maria smiles. “Fuck this. I’m going in.” He stands up, movement aborted as his knee twinges in pain, and he shudders, swallowing. “Okay, now I’m going in.”

“That’s my boy!” Maria calls, and he huffs out a little laugh, opening the door. When he walks in, Rosa and Isobel are on the couch, and Isobel smiles at him.

“Kyle, Liz, and Max left,” she says. She looks sincere. “Michael doesn’t want to talk to me unless he’s seen you.”

“Oh.” Alex starts toward the room but hesitates. 

“So hurry up. I want to see him.” She points to the door, and Alex breathes in, breathes out, and enters.

“Finally,” Michael says, and Alex startles. Michael is sitting up in bed, looking put out, and Alex laughs, relieved and watery and so,  _ so  _ happy. Michael grins. “I was beginning to think you’d left your own house.”

“I can’t stand you,” Alex breathes out, but he moves in for a hug, and Michael latches on, fingertips ghosting over the collar of Alex’s shirt. “God. You are so fucking stupid. Never do that again.”

Michael looks down, lips pressed together. “I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t.” Alex tilts his chin up so Michael will look at him. “Do you understand how that felt? Watching you die?” Alex takes a deep, shuddering breath, and Michael’s eyes soften. Alex shakes his head. “Of course you woke up the first time I left this room for longer than a minute. Of course.”

“The first time? Alex,” Michael chides, gentle, and Alex pulls him back in for a hug. He breathes in the smell of rain, the slight smell of antiseptic from where they’d cleaned him up, feels the cotton t-shirt underneath his fingers and reminds himself that this is real, Michael is alive and okay. He pulls back, looking at Michael’s face, and words get stuck in his throat. Michael looks at him, and it’s like nothing has happened. Like he’s miraculously cured. Alex’s hand goes to touch the wound, and Michael grabs it, guiding it there. “I’m okay.”

Alex shuts his eyes. “What if you weren’t?” It comes out quiet, breathy. “What if you  _ weren’t,  _ Michael? I watched you  _ die.”  _ His breath hitches, and a tear falls, and he shouldn’t be falling apart when Michael was the one who died three days ago. Michael moves Alex’s hair out of his face.

“I kept dreaming about you,” Michael says. It’s shy but unabashed, and Alex looks up at him, then, away from the wound, finally. “You kept asking me to come back to you. So I did.”

“Fuck you,” Alex says, but there’s no heat behind it, and he grabs Michael’s face. “I love you so much.” And he presses his lips to Michael’s forehead.

His arms slip around Michael’s shoulders, and Michael hisses in pain. Alex pulls back immediately.

“Oh, shit.” Alex pulls his hands away like he’s been burned, and Michael shakes his head.

“No, no, I’m mostly fine, Kyle said. It’s just a bruise.” Michael looks up at him, through his eyelashes, and Alex can’t believe he’s spent eleven years not having this. “You love me?”

Alex presses his lips together, barely contained annoyance bleeding through. “Obviously.”

“Oh.” Michael grabs one of Alex’s hands, and plays with his fingers idly. Alex lets him. “Kyle and Liz said it’s been three days.”

“It has.” Alex squeezes Michael’s fingers. He wills himself to calm down. “Did you have questions?”

Michael squeezes back, but he stays silent for a moment, allowing Alex to just take it all in. He can hear Isobel and Rosa in the other room, talking to Maria about god knows what, but the sounds of their voices are soothing. Michael, at least, seems to take some comfort in it, knowing that Isobel is here, and the front door opens. Max is speaking, and then Maria is poking her head in.

“Bye, Michael, I’m coming over tonight, and if you’re asleep, I’ll kick your ass.” She says it with a smile, and is gone so quickly Alex barely has time to register it. 

Michael blinks. “What is it with everyone and threatening bodily harm?”

“You died,” Alex says, flat. Michael winces. “Cut us a little slack.”

Michael frowns, lacing his fingers with Alex’s. “I kept dreaming about you crying,” he says, and Alex squeezes his hand again. “You were crying, and saying you loved me. And you were talking about a dream you had.”

“About us getting married?” Alex asks, and Michael looks up, surprised. Alex smiles, wry. “That wasn’t a dream.”

Michael opens his mouth, closes it, then takes a deep breath. “It felt so real.” His fingers reach for the bruise on his side, but he stops it before he can do anything. Alex watches Michael think through everything for a moment, and he moves without thinking, his hand brushing Michael’s hair out of his face. “It was real,” Michael says then, and Alex nods. A smile spreads across Michael’s face, his eyes full of hope and love and  _ trust.  _ “You want all that with me?”

Alex left Roswell at 18, and dreamed about a boy in a truck bed with a guitar, and suddenly Alex didn’t want to stay gone. He dreamed about Michael constantly, to the point that his thoughts were consumed, and he would spend his leave in Michael’s airstream or in the cabin with Michael there, and he dreamt of a future with him. Alex is not naive enough to think he could ever forget Michael Guerin, no matter how much he wished he could stay away.

He thinks about everything that led him here, every path he took, everything they endured, and he looks at Michael, and he knows. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, and Michael beams. “You know I love you, Guerin.”

“I  _ do  _ know,” Michael says, and he sounds wonderous. Alex smiles. “And I love you, too.” 

Alex doesn’t know who leans in first, but Alex kisses him, soft and gentle, like they’ve got all the time in the world. He’s got a hand curled in Michael’s t-shirt and another on his cheek, and it’s nothing like their previous kisses—it’s reminiscent of them at seventeen, feeling invincible, not wondering when this was going to end. Michael’s lips are cracked and his hands are calloused, but the feel is familiar and safe, and Alex loves him. Alex  _ loves  _ him.

Michael pulls back, and he looks at Alex as he always done, but it’s only now that Alex can see the love in every crevice, every intricacy of his expressions. “Not to ruin this moment,” Michael starts, and Alex laughs, shaking his head, “but I’m kind of thirsty, and Kyle said I couldn’t have coffee.”

Alex nods, smiling, and he smooths Michael’s hair back, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then to his cheek. “I have water, orange juice, tea?” he offers, and Michael smiles.

“Tea is cool,” Michael says, and Alex lets go.

“I’ve got earl grey, if you want.” It’s tentative, but Michael hears it for what it is, and smiles, nodding his assent. 

“I like earl grey.”

So Alex goes, and thinks that maybe they really do have all the time in the world.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! if you enjoyed you can follow me on tumblr at adamsparirsh to see the malex brainworms in action.


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